


The Redeemer

by solsethegreat



Series: Monsterhearts World [1]
Category: Monsterhearts, Monsterhearts (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, RP - Fandom, Roleplay - Fandom
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Boys Kissing, Cannibalism, Demon Hunters, Demons, Drama, Forbidden Love, Gay, Gay Male Character, Horror, Interracial Relationship, LGBTQ Themes, Love Triangles, M/M, Monster Hunters, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Roleplay Logs, Romance, Stabbing, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14461722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsethegreat/pseuds/solsethegreat
Summary: Brock is a demon hunter. His life is complicated. His friends have abandoned him and he has a rocky secretive relationship with his boyfriend. Roman is a demon who antagonizes him because he has a crush. When a group of Black-Eyed Kids start a murder spree in town, the two team up to try to stop them, but also find themselves battling something else; Their feelings for each other.





	1. One Year Ago

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old RP PSL that is a complete story and one of my favorites, so it was written with a partner. It’s a sweet, slow burn relationship and I enjoy it so much I wanted to share it because it’s a shame not to. It was originally part of a community on Insanejournal, but the game ended and we just continued on. Since the original community was deleted, there are a few scenes missing, but it is mostly complete.
> 
> Some things you may not get from context since this was already an ongoing RP besides just this storyline: Brock is 5'8", white, blonde, and built like a brick house. Roman is Japanese-Russian and a mixed race demon. Both are 17 for most of the story, probably 18 toward the end as the storyline does take place over the course of several months. Brock is a demon hunter called a 'Redeemer,' just like the title, and he's a mystical hero with strength, speed, and healing abilities (he heals a little faster than normal humans, but he also has a strange ability where he 'Insta-heals' if he has sexual intercourse with someone. His powers are taken from an Incubus, which makes some of his abilities inherently sexual.)

Roman was bored, honestly. There was zero other reason for him to gut a rabbit and spread it around a large, flat rock that happened to be situated behind his house. His parents were out of town, his brother was with a sitter. Roman was home alone, not getting proper attention, which was how the threatening text to Brock had come about at all.

 ** _’You should come over or I’m going to sacrifice this bunny for spiritual enlightenment’._**  

There were some days he wondered just how much bullshit he could actually spew, but today was not one of those days. The gate to the yard was unlocked, Roman was sitting on a chair, he and the recently deceased animal just waiting. Idly, he flicked through the phone with a heavy sigh, glancing up only when he heard footsteps and a snap of a twig.

“You’re too late,” he called before Brock could even speak or properly identify himself. Roman picked up the knife and waved it indicatively at what was left of the rabbit, it’s skin peeled back and spread out into some odd shape on the surface of the rock. It’s organs were out and surrounding it in a circle.

“Bambi’s gone.” Roman paused, processing his words. “Wait. Thumper! I mean Thumper.”

Brock had found Roman in the woods not too long ago while he was on a hunt of his own. People had seen some winged thing leaping from the trees at night and Brock had to make sure it wasn't just the local drunks making up shit again. But that's when he first came across Roman cutting up some animal like a junior Jeffrey Dahmer. It sickened him. Of course, being as brash and as blunt as he was, he called out to him. Threatened him. Straight up asked him what he was. Of course he got coy responses, but it all circled around him being of some sort of demonic heritage. And yet, even in the dark of the night, after seeing his brutality that sickened and horrified him, he couldn't help but notice the boy's looks and charm. And Brock was weak to the promise of a good time, even in the face of darkness. Especially darkness. It was why he'd been attracted to Logan for so long. They got each other's darkness. Still… It was wrong to want someone  _this_ dark, wasn't it?

And yet that marked the beginning of their mutually beneficial relationship. In all honesty it was mostly because he was curious about Roman. If he would have to eventually kill him, he needed to know everything about him. So why not get to know him intimately? Brock never got too attached to the people he fucked anyway. It's why half the school loathed him.

He received the text, the pit of his stomach twisting in a knot when he saw the dark words. The boy was sick and cruel and he had no idea why he hadn't driven a knife through his skull yet. But he knew that in his own sick way, that may have been Roman's way of flirting. Like a homicidal kindergartner.

He arrived and saw the dark teen sitting there, brandishing the bloody knife. He snarled and ran over to Roman, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him out of the chair and slamming him against the wall behind him.

“You're fuckin’ sick, ya know’t?” He growled, staring into Roman's eyes, daring him to retort. He should have his own knife out, but he could just as easily snap his neck. But he wouldn't. As fucked up as it was, woodland creatures were just outside of his jurisdiction. Roman technically did nothing wrong except being a creep.

Roman’s back hit the wall, but everything on his face said he’d been expecting such a reaction. The surprise and mild pain passed quickly into smugness, and then feigned innocence, almost daring Brock to preemptively punish Roman for deeds he’d yet to commit.

“What were you doing, anyway? That poor bunny was depending on you and you made us wait.” No skin off Roman’s back -- ha, he’d have to use that later. He wasn’t bothered, not really.

Brock’s words really sank in after the moment of playfulness passed. His gaze slid over the other boy’s shoulder and back to the fake altar with the animal spread across it, before returning to meet Brock’s. “What are you going to do about it?”

Brock's jaw tensed as he glared at the other boy in the heavy moonlight. Maybe it was just a rabbit, but it was still a failing. One of these days that could be a person instead. Brock wasn't fast enough. He needed to be faster. Roman knew somehow that Brock had insecurities about his failings. But then anyone who got close enough for conversation knew because he wore it on his sleeve. Roman had all the right weapons to use against him. Knives and bullets didn't hurt quite as bad as psychology did. Making Brock feel like a failure was the best way to break him.

Exasperated, Brock screamed and punched the wall behind him, his fist breaking through the panelling. He grimaced as he looked over Roman's snide face as he removed his fist from the wall, hearing some of the siding clack to the ground below them. Really what could he do? He didn't kill a person. He didn't seem to have opened a portal to hell. All he could do really was snarl at him and tell him he was a freak. So he let him go, despite the evil kid's words causing a stir in his pants. He turned and shook his head and stomped away a few feet before turning back.

“What the hell’r ya doin? If ya wanted me ta come over ya could jus ask norm’ly.” He said in an agitated tone, nose scrunching as he looked down at the flayed, gutted bunny.

“Is this your fucked up way of ‘initiating a booty call?” He said, still disgusted with the boy but somehow not running. Sometimes his dick overtook his common sense.

“That’s so rude, damaging property that isn’t yours,” Roman warned. It was delivered sharply, surprisingly so considering how usually playful he sounded. He regarded Brock thoughtfully, not even breaking gaze as he spoke, and then he dropped it as if his words had meant nothing.

He shrugged at Brock’s question. It really hadn’t been for any significant reason, the bothering Brock, the “sacrifice”, the text. Roman was bored and he wanted entertainment  _now_. That’s where his line of thinking had stopped. “I wasn’t really  _thinking_ of much. I just wanted to be a priority. You give me  _so_ much credit, picturing me as some guy with a big master plan. It’s almost overwhelming, you know … The pressure to fulfill that responsibility for you. Sometimes I have to act out.”

Roman walked over to stand beside him, but didn’t follow his gaze. His eyes were on Brock. “I’ll do my best, though,” he promised. “Annnnd I don’t  _know_ if this was a booty call, but now that you’re here...” A shrug and a smirk. “Is it working?”

It was strange that he put up with Roman and his weird, creepy ways of crying out for attention. But maybe it was because he identified with him? Afterall, Brock never really told anybody this, but he longed for attention too.  Attention he never really got from his family.  Attention he  _did_ get from his friends, but he kept them out of his head emotionally most of the time simply because he knew if he allowed them to get too close it could be dangerous for everyone, even if they went monster hunting with him regularly. Maybe Roman sought out attention for different reasons than Brock, who underneath the tough guy veneer was just a lonely and sad kid half the time.  But ultimately, their end goals were the same.  

Even then, it didn’t mean he liked him, right?

Brock rolled his eyes and turned and looked at Roman when he explained that he never had a plan.  “So what your sayin’s I should jus’ ignore ya? Then ya’d stop feelin’ pressured’t kill things? Cuz  _that_ I’cn do.” He teased, feigning like he was going to walk away.  And after a few steps he stopped again, then slid off his jacket.  

“Do ya wan’t ta be workin’?” He said out of the corner of his eye, draping his jacket over the chair the other had just been forcibly removed from.  Then he approached the other, hand coming up and pressing against his abdomen, pushing him back until he’d backed him against a tree.  His nose touched Roman’s, lips lingered just above the boy’s own without touching.

“Do ya ev’n care either way?” He whispered with a grin, hot breath against his lips.  Then he pulled away, happy with his tease.  Roman often liked to pretend he was the one with the power. Brock liked to reassert his dominance when necessary.  

There was very nearly a dramatic  _gasp_ as Brock pulled away. How dare he. Sure, Roman could lie and say he hadn’t wanted that kiss, but it would be the biggest lie and even he wasn’t sure he was capable of lying that well. The smirk and amusement had drifted from his face for seconds, mere seconds that he  _knew_ Brock noticed, as it was just desire when the other boy was leaning so close.

When Brock moved, however, Roman’s first instinct was to club him over the head with the same chair he’d draped his stupid ugly jacket over. Stupid fucking humans, always trying for power when power wasn’t what they needed.

He exhaled to calm himself, and it worked well enough, but Brock had riled him up and it was obvious in how long it took him to collect himself.

“See?” He finally said, still remaining by the tree, now leaning back against it and just watching Brock. Thoughtfully, curiously. He wasn’t trying to get under his skin again, for the moment. Now he was just assessing. “You all can be just as cruel.”

Brock smirked, noting the exasperated gasp and how long it took Roman to recompose himself.  Brock would be lying to himself as well if he insinuated he didn’t like working the boy up. Afterall, the hatesex that usually followed was pretty damn fun.  As for now, he would just rile him up, push his limits.  Roman still disgusted him, he didn’t deserve an easy pass. Brock looked down at the chair he’d draped his jacket over, then turned his nose up when he remembered it was in full view of the macabre tableau that Roman left for him.  So he picked it up and turned it around to face the boy and then sat, hands behind his head as he looked over the other once more with a little grin in response to him being called cruel.

“I’cnt argue witcha there. Ask anybody that done fucked round wit’ me an’ they tell ya I’m cruel cuz I din’t go out on a date wit’ them or some shit.” He laughed a bit, maybe enjoying that fact too much.  Sure, he wanted attention and love, but he didn’t really want it with any of these jokes he went to school with. And maybe secretly he was just waiting for the right time and the right person. For now, he enjoyed himself and he used his charm and his looks to get what he needed for that compulsion he just couldn’t control.  

“Maybe I jus’ wan’ see you beg, devilspawn?” He said in a low whisper, corner of his lips curling into a knowing smirk as his hand slipped under his tank top and raised it just enough for Roman to see the taut muscles of his abdomen in the pale moonlight.  Roman liked to play games, so Brock would play along with him.  It made it more fun.  

“Poor saps,” Roman laughed, joining Brock in the sole thing they could agree on in the moment. His interest in the other boy had  _nothing_ to do with dating. There was a connection, to be certain, but that was where things ended in any sense of romance. “Wanting to date you.” He said it with a tisk and did indeed get to his knees for Brock. And there he sat, lower than him, looking up at him, at perfect angle to see the well carved muscle Brock was teasing him with. Roman took it in and made a show of his lingering gaze.

“But you like toying with them, don’t you? Does it make you feel powerful to lead them on, or shut them down?” He paused, for dramatics more than anything. “Or maybe it’s  _control_ you want. You don’t have much of that in your life, do you Brock? So maybe that’s how you find it... But aren’t you supposed to be protecting others, not hurting them. Who’s going to protect them from you?”

“Fools, they is.” Brock gave a nod, agreeing about the lovers he spurned.  So many in the short amount of time he’d been the Redeemer.  Once his powers activated, his hormones just kicked into high gear.  Maybe it gave him some sort of otherworldly charm as well as strength? It certainly wasn’t one of his  _official_ gifts, but it came much easier to him than when he was younger. For now he just watched Roman kneel before him, followed his eyes’ gaze to his exposed torso.  

“I like ya like that…” He teased, lifting his shirt a little more as they continued their conversation.

“Maybe I do.  Maybe it’s fun. Maybe it’s the only thing I  _can_ control and I like’t that way.” He nodded.  He didn’t have any say in his life.  His fate. The things he was forced to do.  But he did have control over how he dealt with other people.  And they shouldn’t get too close anyway, so he made sure that they didn’t want to.  Sure, he yearned for something more. Secretly for the love he’d never received.  But he deemed nobody really worthy of that honor yet, and planned to keep it that way for a while.  And sure, there was some bliss in not being in control, but even that was something he’d want to control.  It was complicated.  Brock was complicated.  

Roman’s words did make sense though. They reminded him of what Lore said when he left the gang.  That he hurt people.  He abandoned them. Hurt them. And sooner or later he’d do it to his new friends.  He didn’t want to believe it either, but maybe there was some truth to it? Eventually they’d get too close too, and that would be too dangerous for them.  He didn’t want to think about it.  Instead he just growled with a clenched jaw and gripped Roman by the neck of his shirt, pulling him up and feeling the fabric rip as he did.

“Shut up, hellspawn.” He grunted before pressing a harsh, loveless kiss against his lips, sucking his lower lip into his own mouth and biting roughly on it as he did.

Roman laughed. “No you  _don’t_. You don’t like it that way at all. And who would? Your life has to kind of …. Suck.” He didn’t really say it with any remorse, instead sounding more like he’d just pieced together some stuff and was blurting out the realization as it came. “You might like the control, but let’s be honest, Brock, you don’t like that it’s the only little sliver you’ve got.”

His smirk  _had_ to be grating, even as he was yanked off his knees and his collar ripped (Brock would pay for that later!!) -- Or now. Brock telling him to shut up barely registered, given that it was immediately followed by lips crashing against his, and Roman gave in to it easily. Too easily. Brock bit his lip, and Roman only reciprocated, but whatever Brock dished him, Roman just  _had_ to escalate. He bit down, hard, not satisfied until there was a metallic taste in his mouth mixing with the taste of Brock, and he ran his tongue over the cut just to confirm his own satisfaction. Roman didn’t care or desire the taste of blood, but he was fine causing pain, and better yet, getting others to cause their own.

He pulled back just enough to assess his work. “I guess we should work on healing that?” The suggestion, however, held a sort of lilt that suggested he was hardly done marking Brock up for the evening.

Brock hissed when he felt his lip split open, blood leaking out and smearing between their mashing lips.  The pain was sharp, but not all that unwelcome.  There was something enjoyable and dirty about the sudden blood-letting in the middle of their kiss.  It wasn’t all that dissimilar to his relationship with Roman. Wrong and something he should stay away from, but yet still kind of hot and addicting.  

“I said shut up.” He growled, standing from the chair and grappling the boy hard to the ground in a move he’d used many times on the wrestling team.  He brought his hands to the collar of Roman’s shirt once more and tore the shirt down the middle with one swift motion.  He’d already ripped it part of the way earlier, might as well finish it off.  

“You’re much less annoyin’ when ya don’ talk.” He said, aggressively pinning Roman down and forcing another kiss to his lips, the tang of blood interfering with the hungry kisses once more. Then he pulled back and gave him a dubious grin.

“C’mon now…” He said, subtly relinquishing his hold a little so that he could give Roman a chance to fight back. Because though he wouldn’t admit it, he liked when Roman fought back.  “Ya’cn do better than that.”

And while he did offer a weaker hold, he still bit down on the boy’s neck.  He didn’t care if the other boy liked it.  Well… maybe on some level he did.

“You know how much I annoy you is part of the appeal,” Roman teased, letting Brock pin him down because each irritated move was validating to him in a sick way. He did shift under Brock’s weight, just enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing. The bite to his neck drew out a moan; he contemplated returning the favor with the teeth of his other form, but he didn’t. Not yet, maybe not ever. His shirt was already open, making him the less clothed one by default. Roman wasn’t a fan.

Brock might’ve been the chosen one, but Roman was no stranger to grappling. He had training in it from a pushy dad; days and weeks and years of leg locks and pins until his father felt he was good enough for competition. Occasionally, he voiced this talent outside of combative company, but it was usually on the football team where he seemed to hold an exceptional tolerance to pain that was likely built from a childhood filled with it. Brock’s grip loosened, and Roman seized the moment, flipping them so he was on top for the moment.

“I can do better,” he confirmed lowly, leaning down to say the words breathily into his ear. Roman’s fingers found their way beneath Brock’s shirt, scraping tips and nails up skin and abs with a certain carelessness that said he didn’t particularly mind if he dug in too deep as they moved. In tandem with dragging Brock’s shirt up, Roman’s lips (and teeth) found the other boy’s jaw and marked their trail all the way to Brock’s lips. But they didn’t meet. Roman didn’t kiss him, just teased him with the possibility of one, mouth hovering just inches above the other’s, lips quirked into the tiniest little smile. He seemed like he was going to lean in, but it was distraction for what came next: Fingers digging hard as they could into Brock’s sides, hard enough to give the impression that if Roman  _could_ push his fingers into Brock; through flesh and muscle and bone, he might’ve.

Then, he kissed him.

Brock craned his neck, allowing the other boy better access even if he feigned a little resistance. Roman was on top, and even though he spewed acidic words at the boy, he enjoyed the pressure of his nails against his flesh, the weight of his body pinning him down to the ground.  He grabbed at Roman’s hips, hands fanning down to his buttocks, groaning as his fingers dug deeper in.  He laughed, maybe sounding a little sadistic.  He didn’t care.

“Silly fuckin’ boy.” He said, shoving him off again before tossing his own shirt to the side. But then…. well Brock pulled him back onto his lap and returned the kiss again, more fervently this time as his strong hands tore the leftover scraps of shirt from Roman’s torso.  He could say all the horrible things he wanted.  They could hurt each other as much as either could take.  But that kiss… he’d always get lost in Roman’s kiss, which though he would never admit because of his disgust for the boy, was one of his favorite things about him.  

Hands trailed down, finding the button of Roman’s jeans, snapping it open with little effort.  Lips never leaving his, though the bitter taste of blood from earlier still lingering.  

“This’s why ya murder bunnies, right? So I’cn come punish ya, right?” He said sarcastically against his mouth, biting at his lip again.  They were in for a long night.


	2. Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock is investigating the murder of an older woman when Roman decides to tag along.

Nan was shaken. To the point of tears. Brock had seen a lot of blood in O’Cock. Too much. It didn’t phase him. He didn’t stop to think that Nan hadn’t. That his grandfather and his own father had sheltered her enough from what they did that she never had to worry about the horrifying things that happened in this town. But sometimes the darkness had a habit of creeping up on even the most unassuming of people.

Rosie hadn’t shown up for the bake sale. That itself was odd because the bake sales they organized three times a year were highlights for the woman. Nancy, considering herself a friend, went to her home after a few days when her phone calls went unanswered. When she’d arrived, there were scratches in floorboards of her front porch, and what appeared to be crudely wiped up blood. As if a child that didn’t know what they were doing was trying to cover their tracks. And the door was unlocked. Nancy had entered the home to look around, thinking maybe Rosie had an accident, but could not find her. The neighbors had said they hadn’t seen her for days and that maybe she’d left town, but Nancy didn’t believe that. Rosie was too much of a townie to up and leave. But in the guest room, she’d found what appeared to be blood leaking from the closet. When she’d opened the door, Rosie fell out. Or what was _left_ of her.

Nancy didn’t stay around long after that. As hard ass of a woman as she was to him, it was hard for Brock not to feel bad for how traumatized she was. 

But now it begged the question. What was he dealing with now? There were any number of creatures that it could be, all of them with a different weakness. When it came to the world of the supernatural, a great many beasts were just that. Beasts. Animals not yet capable of being tamed by the realm of mortals, and so they killed like them. Brock wouldn’t know for sure until he was staring it down face to face. So for tonight he would pack the basics. His silver dagger, for many creatures found themselves vulnerable to silver. His grandfather’s gun that he’d keep concealed in case things got hairy. A few bottles of holy water, because their uses were frankly surprisingly endless in combat. Most of his stuff neatly tucked into his tattered messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he walked the streets with his hood up. He figured the best place to start were the woods near Rosie’s house. Things could always hide in the woods. 

Roman was _not exactly_ out looking for trouble this evening. Not in the sense that Brock would likely interpret his wandering through the woods at night, anyhow. Rather, he was actually trying to _help_ , in his own sort of way. Which really boiled down to being awfully nosy and wanting to figure out what was going on on his own, since Brock had put him off and Roman was not known for his patience. He was capable enough of protecting himself, and hell, any monster he stumbled upon was nothing in the face of him, he was certain. He’d done a few seeing rituals, trying to piece together bits and pieces on people of interest. Or places of interest. Or events of interest. Unfortunately, Roman was prone to getting distracted by teenage gossip related details, and less on bloody murder and cut out hearts, or whatever was in style these days.

 _Naturally_ Brock was out too. It made perfect sense when Roman spotted him, only a slight huff of irritation that he hadn’t been invited as a result of their pact welling up in his chest, which Roman actively forced himself to deflate. Instead, he let it fizzle out before he got closer. “Boo,” was all he deadpanned as he came up behind Brock, and he spoke well before he was in compromising proximity of the other boy. It was partially to let Brock know he was there, and partially just a little joke.

He slid his hands into his pockets and looked over at Brock curiously. “Monster hunting?”

Brock took the _’Boo!’_ seriously and turned quickly on his heel, swiftly gripping the boy’s shirt and rearing the knife back. It was a reflex, but he clenched his jaw and shook his head, releasing him just a moment later. He’d heard the Boo. It was dark enough that most people would require a flashlight. Brock had learned that lights scared off the spookies and tried to rely on his senses instead. Of course these things were easier when he had a bloodhound, but eh… past was past. 

“Ch’yeah. An’ look. I found’t one.” Brock replied sarcastically at Roman’s question of monster hunting. It was a small enough town that news of Rosie’s passing spread fairly quickly. He was certain Roman was out because of morbid curiosity or just plain creepiness. 

“Ya wouldn’t’ve moved up to the big leagues have ya? Grajiated from bunnies ta lil old ladies?” He questioned Roman, though honestly not seriously. Somehow he doubted that Roman would commit full on murder unless he got someone to do it for him, and even then he wasn’t sure he could justify a reason for it. 

“Or ya jus’ out here ta bug me?”

Roman only fixed his shirt as Brock released him, looking virtually unfazed by the fact he may have very well just ended up gutted for sneaking up on a hunter. “You were painfully easy to sneak up on, honey. Were I something more threatening, I could’ve eaten you.” His smile, however, was wide, with only seconds of something a little more predatory in it; demonic (were his teeth sharper?) perhaps, and then it was gone.

“Wait -- “ He seemed to take a more serious turn as Brock asked him the next question. It almost even seemed like he was going to ask a _serious question_. “You consider old ladies to be the big leagues?” Roman put a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought for all of a moment before opening his arms to gesture outward toward Brock. “Because, I’d have thought the big leagues would be _you_ , Mr. Chosen One.”

“Neither, actually. Though it’s,” Roman looked him up and down as he spoke. “ _Always_ a pleasure to see you, Brock.”

Brock just rolled his eyes at Roman, which honestly was his default state around the other boy. It was annoying that part of him still found Roman charming and attractive, even despite his intense relationship with Adam and the fact that Roman honestly always had annoyed him. 

“Ya already have eaten me sev’ral times. Don’ think’m in any danger there.” He brushed off Roman’s comment and turned to walk again. If the boy wanted to follow along he was more than welcome.

“I meant movin’ on ta people when I said ‘Big Leagues.’ But I uh… I guess I’m in a league’a my own.” He said sheepishly, hiding his hint of a smile in the shadows they walked in. 

“Look’f ya gon’ be out here I can’t make ya leave. Public place. Jus’ watch mah back.” He shrugged, twirling the knife in his hand idly as he walked along. He wasn’t feeling too confident he’d find anything tonight anyway. The first night of the hunt was always the least successful.

“So why _ARE_ ya out here, punk?” He said with a slight hiss, though some may have noticed the subtle hint of affection on the ‘punk.’ Brock knew Roman wasn’t right. When the time came, if it came, he’d put him down. But he was ashamed to admit that sometimes his company wasn’t all that unpleasant. 

“You should always think you’re in danger, Brock. That’s survival.” _That_ was said seriously, with no jokey follow up, no laugh, only a shrug as he switched topics as if he hadn’t given quite possibly his most legitimate piece of advice, warning, or indication of any worry for Brock’s safety whatsoever.

“No, I haven’t killed any people.” There was the laugh, quick and obviously (maybe?) joking. “ _Lately_.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll watch your back.” He followed Brock as a surprisingly respectable distance, keeping eye out as best he could for anything odd; rustling, tracks, lights that didn’t seem to be poking through from nearby houses. “I’m out here because I was curious. I mentioned to you a while ago that I was interested in finding out more about what’s going on.” Roman shrugged. He didn’t lie often enough not to be believed when he said things, or so he thought.

Brock raised an eyebrow at his comment. As a hunter of things that go bump in the night, he knew to be on his toes. At the same time, if Roman were to turn he was fairly certain he could take him. From what he knew of him at least.

“Ya threatnin’ me, devilspawn?” He smirked, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked. He heard Roman insinuate he’d killed in the past and wasn’t sure he took it that seriously. Things always had a habit of being found in O’Cock, ritual murder especially. 

“Guess I ain’t never took ya seriously when ya said that. Or just when ya say stuff’n general.” He threw out the douchey comment without much a second thought. He was always hot and cold with this one. Probably because his mind was never really made up about him.  
“This curiosity o’yours just cuz ya curious by nature or cuz ya got somethin’ planned?” Again, always with the suspicion. But Roman said it himself. He should always think he was in danger.

It was getting colder by the second, it felt like. Roman zipped up the hoodie he was wearing, layered with a sweater beneath it and still he didn’t feel completely satisfied. The only thing keeping him warm most was the thrill of a hunt, he supposed, but he wasn’t really an animal. Chase didn’t get his blood boiling in the same way that other things did.

“Hm?” Roman glanced at Brock. “Oh, no. Not threatening. The opposite, actually! Warning. I like you alive, sunshine.” He gave what appeared to be a genuine smile, before glancing back out into the forest. This hunt was a little pointless, he felt, but maybe that’s because he wasn’t exactly trained for this and Brock was. Roman had pretty much just been aiming to play damsel in distress in the woods and hoped something would take the bait.

“Well, whose problem is that?” Certainly not his. If people didn’t take him seriously, that was on them.

Brock threw another look over his shoulder. Confused. Brock was always kind of an asshole to Roman, but it was because he knew the boy was no good. But realistically maybe it was because he just didn’t understand him. He knew things were not just black and white. He had a handful of people in his life right now that weren’t exactly human and have done some pretty shady things and yet they always got a free pass. And Roman was always nothing but nice to him. He could sense some fakeness to it, but then there were small moments where he’d see his humanity and then feel immediately bad about the way he treated him. Why did Roman piss him off so much when he was just as much of an enigma to him as Adam had once been?

“Ya always givin’ me a compliment when I act like a jerk. Ya’re fucked in the head, demon child.” He said, pursing his lips a bit. He squinted when he looked back at Roman. Did he just see a hooded figure run past him in the background?

“Just being honest. That’s not a compliment.” Roman gave him a weird look, and then when he noticed Brock was squinting and looking beyond him, he froze a little. 

“Pleeeease don’t tell me there’s like a wolf waiting to eat me right over my shoulder.” He wanted to glance back, but worried the movement might deter Brock’s progress or scare whatever the human was looking at off back into the woods. So he stayed still. He could do that much, at least. Instinctively, he tensed up, ready for an attack, and then relaxed his body.

“For the record,” he whispered, “I _told_ you it wasn’t me.”

“Wha-- no it’s not a wolf.” Brock gave Roman a strange side eyed look of confusion for a moment. He looked back up and saw nothing. But this wasn’t his first hunt. He wasn’t the kid in the horror movie that would say ‘it’s nothing’ because it was always something. He placed a strong hand on Roman’s shoulder as if to steady him so that he didn’t make any sudden movements. He needed to listen. Hear the movement. Feel the change in the wind. Things that ran off in the woods were often smart enough to be silent and still, but nothing could remain that way forever. 

“Shhh…” He whispered as he narrowed his eyes toward the direction of the movement. But everything seemed still. And then a twig cracked to their right. 

Brock’s head immediately turned and with a quick motion of his wrist he flung his dagger into the darkness, hearing a thunk as it hit something. He ran off quickly to investigate, pulling out his phone and popping on the flashlight so he could find his dagger at the very least. 

Nothing. His dagger stuck out of the side of a tree. It wasn’t until he approached it that he noticed the dark blue fabric hanging from it. Torn off in a hurry. He’d hit something. Someone even.

“...we’re bein’ watched.” He said just loud enough for Roman to hear.

“Stay close.”

Roman obeyed the command without too much huff -- he remained quiet and still while Brock did his thing. He really wanted to turn and see what Brock was hunting, but alas, no dice. Then came the snap of a twig, the sudden flick of a wrist and hurl of a blade. Impressive, to be certain, if a bit excessive. What if that had been some kid playing out in the woods. Roman opened his mouth to point out such a thing, maybe play a bit at Brock’s insecurities, but closed it. He’d wait.

He followed close to Brock, almost right behind him now, deferring to him for security in the cold and dark and eerily quiet woods. ...When did it get so quiet?

Roman’s eyes focused on the blue fabric as the phone lit it up, frowning. God, it was so tacky. Looked a bit ragged, worn down. Reminded him of the stories of cloaked figures in the Serbian wilderness his father would tell him and his idiotic little brother about. They wore half torn capes colored with their surroundings, out hunting for human limbs and flesh to help them walk and climb and live. He wondered if it was one of those, but thought it a bit unlikely that there would be _two_ of those in town. 

“What do you think it is?” Roman asked, mimicking the lowness of Brock’s voice. “And can I keep the fabric? ...Or at least borrow it?” Maybe he could trace something off it. Ugh, should he offer that information? 

A pause. “I might be able to get something off it, with time,” he offered.

It was strange. The feeling Brock got when he looked over the fabric, running it between his fingers. Like a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Not that he was legitimately scared, but like something was forcing an emotion on him. Trying to dampen his senses. He’d felt something similar the other night before he went to visit Adam. 

“ _Those kids…_ ” He whispered to himself. They were wearing dark blue hoodies. And the stared at him long and hard before they turned to walk away. They weren’t just kids being creeps. They were studying him. Sizing him up. And ultimately deciding not to. 

“I know who they are. Don’ know _what_ they are but I’m sure they ain’t human…” He said, clenching his jaw as he looked up at Roman. He raised an eyebrow for a moment at his request. That was usually the kind of thing Lincoln did for him But since they weren’t exactly on the ‘let’s do each other favors’ wavelength anymore and Brock needed all the resources he could get, he had to think about it for a moment. He didn’t fully trust Roman, but he also didn’t have a real reason not to. 

He gave the other boy a once over one more time before handing him the fabric.

“If’n ya think ya can help me figure out somethin’ bout ‘em, then yeah. Here.” He gave Roman a nod. He looked around into the dark woods and didn’t see any more movement. They’d be more cautious now.

“I don’ think they gon’ attack us. They know we ain’t normal. They smart. They prolly only go after the normies.”

Roman only gave the sweetest, silent smile he could muster as he plucked the fabric from Brock’s hand and pocketed it. “I’ll keep you posted,” he promised. And he would. Depending on what he found, however, there were doubts on how much information he’d give. Or for what price.

“Well, that was my plan out here all alone. Before I saw you.” Roman sighed dramatically and shrugged again. “To look like a potential victim and all. ...Do you think being around you has put me on their hit list? Or off it.”

“Are you going to see what else you might find?” He paused, realizing he’d been asking a ton of questions. “...Sorry. Watching you work is fascinating, that’s all.”

“Ya’cn look tha part all ya want, but s’long as ya got demon blood in ya, they prolly won’ wanna eatcha anyway. I think ya safe for now.” Brock gave a little shrug.

“I mean… I s’pose they can always _maul_ ya’t death, but they gon study ya up a lil bit first. Jus’ gotta see what happens.” He continued on as if he truly knew what they were dealing with, but in all honesty all he had to go on was a dead granny and some spooky kids. They could be anything. 

Brock stopped for a moment and looked over Roman again. Why was he so interested in watching him work? Taking notes for the day he’d get to fight him? Brock couldn’t help but be skeptical. But at the same time, he didn’t mind the company. He missed having patrol buddies. Even if he wasn’t _Roman’s_ buddy. 

“Uh… I mean, I should prolly look ‘round again. See if there’s like… any other weird shit lyin’ round. You can uh… tag along if ya really wan. My job really isn’t as action packed as ya would believe most nights.” Because really, the epic monster fights came only after days and hours of sifting through boring shit. 

Roman asked a question he wasn’t interested in just to hear Brock talk, so he listened but didn’t _listen_. He wasn’t afraid of death in the same way most of the beings that surrounded him were. He didn’t actively want to die, of course, but for Roman, death was a means to an end the same way most of the awful things he did were. In life or in death, Roman would get what he wanted.

“Yeahhh,” he said, after a moment. “That sounds pretty boring. I think I’ll go home. See what I can sniff out from this.” Roman lifted the fabric out of his pocket and waved it once. He didn’t actually mean sniff, but whatever. Brock may or may not have known the difference or what he did to learn more about things he wanted to know more about.

It was rather unceremonious at first, his goodbye. In the sense that Roman didn’t really say goodbye, he just sort of turned and looked like he was about to leave. Then he seemed to remember (or realize) that goodbyes were a thing, so he stopped and jerked back to face Brock rather abruptly. 

“Oh. And stay in one piece.” Roman smiled and kissed his cheek.

“It is. Pretty borin’.” Brock nodded in agreement. Patrolling around the woods for creatures that were now fully aware they had at least two supernatural characters on their trail would probably be fruitless tonight if they were smart. 

But then he felt lips on the side of his face and his eyes widened for a moment. Once upon a time, that would have been tame. But they were lips that didn’t belong to his boyfriend, and Brock had a problem keeping focused and actively trying _not_ to have sex with people that weren’t Adam was a real challenge these days. 

“I uh… ya shouldn’t do that, Rome…” He said, thankful that the night concealed the way the corner of his lip quirked upward right now. 

“But… thanks. I’ll try not ta run inta anymore ‘bears.’”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Taken now.” Roman’s voice was low, but there was a smile in it that was difficult to see in the darkness. A smile and a little hint of something else. He put his hand on Brock’s chest for just a moment, and then leaned away, waving it once as if shaking off a very bad thought. “Very well. Be boring now.”

Roman laughed, shook his head, and turned to make his way back to the trail he’d followed in. “Bears. _Please_ ,” he called out over his shoulder as he left.


	3. People like Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman once again tags along in hopes his knowledge of demons will help, but it ends in disaster.

Roman wandered just slightly behind Brock. They hadn’t been in the forest long, and things had that eerie silence that ought to send chills down a spine. He pulled his hoodie up and tugged on the drawstrings so the fabric closed a little tighter around his face. He wasn’t some hunter immune to the weather, and he really didn’t understand how Brock didn’t seem cold at _all_.

“...Can I see what’s in your bag of tricks?” He asked. It was a random thought, but he wondered if there was something in there for him too. Like all the rest of the monsters Brock was supposed to be hunting.

The last few days had been… strange. Brock still wasn’t sure if Roman was just messing with him with all the things he’d said about ‘caring’ about him. The boy who he’d catch mutilating animals in the forest, who once displayed a gutted rabbit for him on a makeshift altar. Back then he just figured it was because Roman was twisted. Evil. From what he knew about him from their strange little talks after their hasty previous hookups, he’d pieced enough of Roman’s backstory together to know he wasn’t human and wasn’t _supposed_ to be a force of good. Looking back, maybe the rabbits were his odd way of flirting? Like when a cat kills a mouse and brings you its corpse to show their affection. In any case, the idea of it suckerpunched Brock, who before felt no remorse in the insults and now just felt kind of mean. But even if everything was all strange, Roman was a good resource when it came to this demonic stuff. And maybe he secretly enjoyed his company despite their banter. 

“Uh… yah, sure.” Brock nodded as he walked along, opening his bag and shining his light in it. He’d brought an actual flashlight this time. In his bag was his standards. Three bottles of holy water. At least two knives. A few crucifixes. His journal. He’d packed light again, because honestly the silver daggers were enough to take out whatever he needed. 

“Tryna’ learn mah weaknesses, Lucifer?” He grinned a bit, not as hostile as he used to be. It was better to be cordial when they’d be working so closely together. 

Roman was keeping his distance, mostly. His last little conversation with Brock had left things in an odd spot for him, emotionally. He wasn’t sure if he’d said more than he should’ve. If he’d compromised himself or revealed too much. It was a small vulnerability that he wasn’t trying to draw attention to. Besides, he wasn’t going to _beg_ Brock. Even if the other boy used to like it so much when he did.

Instead of stepping closer to look into the bag, he leaned over and peered in. It was kind of boring, now that he was looking at it, but he didn’t know what he expected. Half the weapons in the Blade movies were ridiculous, but he’d been kind of hopeful for some interesting tech. Roman reached into the bag without permission and drew out one of the bottle of holy water, looking at it thoughtfully. “I’ve always been curious,” he admitted, unscrewing the cap. “Just a little,” he promised, shaking it as if to say he wouldn’t drain Brock’s entire stock.

A few tiny drops were poured onto his palm, and Roman braced himself for some sort of sting or burn. But nothing. “Huh.” He screwed the cap back on, and handed the vial back over to Brock. “And don’t be silly, darling. I know your weaknesses already.” Cue the devilish little smile, but it was clear enough that Roman was being playful and not threatening.

And the boy was right. He knew his weakness well. Roman’s smile was definitely one of the nicer ones he’d seen. Of course it didn’t compare to Adam’s. Nothing could compare to him. But then, he really didn’t need to compare the two, since they were so different. In any case he gave the other a little half smile and shook his head.

“Ya din’t burn. Guess ya ain’t as bad’s ya thought.” Brock quirked an eyebrow, taking back the bottle and slipping it back into his bag. Holy water didn’t work on every spook. Burned some things, but for the most part he brought it along for impromptu exorcisms. Never knew if ya’d need to burn the bones of a poltergeist or force an evil spirit out of a middle schooler, which these days he was leaning toward the latter. The age ranges lined up. Things had been quiet, he hadn’t seen the kids around town since that day a few weeks ago. But they were certainly still active. Now that Jillian was missing, he had to wonder if maybe they’d used her as a snack. There were enough chunks missing out of poor old Rosie for him to know they had some sort of appetite. Maybe they didn’t need to feed but every once in awhile? 

“So these kids…. when ya did your...thing thatcha do, ya said you felt like… loneliness? Fear? What ya think they are?” He asked, keeping the conversation business oriented. He really needed to take out whatever these things were and soon, without being distracted by a nice smile and weird feelings. 

“Surprise,” he joked, grinning. “I’m actually an angel.” Roman couldn’t really hold the joke for very long. Or the grin. They both collapsed into one full laugh at the thought, but he kind of hoped it’d get a laugh from Brock too.

When things turned to business, Roman heaved a heavy, disappointed sigh. That was why they were out here in cold, wasn’t it? For a moment, it felt like something else. “They’re _kids_ , Brock. They’re scared, they’re alone, and they’re looking for a way not to feel either. There was a desperation to it.” Roman shrugged, looking at him.

“I think they want a home, and like most of us, they’re not very happy when they don’t get what they want.” He shot a pointed look at Brock, but didn’t elaborate on what he meant by ‘us’.

An angel? How unlikely. And yet, amusing. Brock just gave a light chuckle and gave the other boy a look, as if to say ‘really?’ without words. Then he gave a small shrug.

“Lucifer was an angel too. The most beautiful of the angels’n fact. But then his head got’t be too big an’ he was cast outta heaven. But still, face so beautiful he’cd convince anyone’t do anything.” Brock nodded as they walked along. It was clear he was interested in just the mythology of the world. He wasn’t super into religion, but he did find it fascinating at times. It helped with his job at least. 

“I… can see it.” He smirked, acknowledging Roman’s beauty and his demonic nature working hand in hand. 

Brock listened to the other boy talk about the demon kids. How they were scared, just wanted to be cared for. It seemed both boys could probably relate on some level. Brock missed feeling wanted by his family, something he hadn’t felt since he was a very small child. If these kids weren’t leaving a trail of bodies in their wake, they wouldn’t be so bad. But as it was, he’d probably have to kill them. At least he’d feel really bad about it. 

Of course, Brock heard the little jab. He could figure out the subtext, if there was a subtext. He just breathed a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked along. 

“Yeah well, sometimes wants’n needs don’ line up. Lifes great tragedy, right?” He said, trying to move past it without ruffling too many feathers. 

“Did his head get too big, or did he dare to have a thought of his own?” Roman wondered. Humans tailored stories the way they wanted to to teach a lesson, and it was these lessons that were supposed to discourage and scare children from giving in to … Roman, essentially. He took comparisons and stories of such things with a grain of salt.

 _But_ , Brock had just called him beautiful, and really, that’s all Roman took away from it all. He opened his mouth to say something. Maybe flirt. Maybe cut Brock down. He was teasing Roman now, wasn’t he? But neither came. “Why are you being so nice to me, suddenly? Is it because you feel bad for me?”

Roman shrugged. “I guess so.”

Brock stopped for a moment and considered his answer. He was behaving differently, yes it was obvious. But it was because he’d watched the other boy grow into someone completely different from who he’d made a snap judgement about not too long ago. Yeah, there was the disturbing things, like the animal torture and the flashes of inhuman features that the boy subtly let slip every now and then… but Brock was always intrigued more by the things that should disgust him. 

“I uh… I do feel bad. Not _for_ you. Just…” He took a breath and looked up at the night sky through the treeline above them and thought about what he should say next.

“...Once ‘pon a time I was’n love with my best friend. An’ I watched’m choose someone else. An’ it was the worst feelin’ in the world. An’ I’m over it now but… it took months. Months’f feelin’ worthless. Months’f feelin’ like I was bein’ dragged ‘long for the hope that maybe things would change. And in that time, yeah I found what I was lookin’ for somewhere else but…” He shook his head as he continued on. It was weird talking all this out. 

“Point is… I’m fond’f ya. But I also know what’t feels like t’like someone that belongs t’someone else. An’ I’m bein’ nicer’t ya because.. because I been where ya are.” He nodded. Sure he was attracted to him but he also knew that right then, if Roman was looking for more it was something he couldn’t give him. Not without hurting Adam. 

Brock was about to continue when he felt a hard crunch beneath his boot. He shined the light down and saw that he’d stepped on a skull of some long dead creature in the forest. He scrunched his lip up before looking around, seeing a few more bones scattered about, a formation of rocks around the area in a circle. 

“This one’o yours, hellspawn?” He asked mostly in jest, hellspawn having more an affectionate edge than any bitterness behind it. This looked like some sort of ritual meeting place. Reminded him of Roman’s bunny altars. 

Oh _God_ Roman wanted him to shut up right then, but he listened, trying his best not to react as if the words burned him. Brock _pitied_ him, didn’t he? He said he didn’t feel bad for Roman, but he did. This … This is what Roman was amounting to now? For fuck’s sake, Brock was going to _force_ Roman to kill something just to secure his place back in the leagues of being terrible. 

But there was something else. Something nice about being look at differently. Something secure, warm, comforting. Promising. Roman forced a smile, a thought clearly brewing in his mind that he never got to respond with. Brock was had stepped on something, and the conversation took a wholly more comfortable turn. 

“Oh _please_ , why would I leave the comfort of my own backyard to do this and risk being eaten by a wild animal?” Roman shot Brock a _look_ that said he should know him better.

A twig snapped in the distance, and Roman jumped a little. “...Speaking of wild animals.”

But really, it’s not that he pitied him. Did he? Brock didn’t really think it was pity if a part of him kind of wanted to make the boy happy, despite their history. He liked Roman. More than he could admit. Were Adam not there, this new revelation would be worth exploring for him. But Adam _was_ there, and Brock didn’t regret it. And yet, even though his love for Adam burned bright, he remained drawn to the boy nonetheless. 

“Yeah… I s’pose the spacin’ is too big for a thumper sacrifice.” He jested as his ears perked up at the sound in the distance. He heard it too. And he got that sick feeling in his gut that he had the few times he’d run into the kids before. 

“They back…” He said, gripping his knife before slipping into the trees, moving swiftly around in the darkness after shutting off his light. He didn’t wait for the other, though he was sure the boy could pick up on his cues. He squinted in the darkness and looked in the direction the snap came from, looking over at Roman’s direction and whispering.

“Do ya see anythin’ with those perty demon eyes?” He asked in a hushed tone. From his last encounters with them, he knew they were fast. They’d have to work this intelligently. Or creatively. His full speed ahead knife throwing last time only scared them off. 

“Unless I’ve graduated,” Roman offered half-heartedly, but the thought wasn’t finished.

Brock was taking off in some direction and _ugh_ , Roman was really not cut out of this shit, so he stayed put. What was he honestly going to do anyway -- Brock was the hunter, here. Roman just had the added experience of … Being a demon, he supposed. But they weren’t all alike.

Roman was standing in the middle of the circle, scanning the treeline, but it was dark and he wasn’t quite comfortable giving up his human sigh right now in exchange for a spiritual one. “See? No. Feel? Yes,” he answered. Roman wasn’t certain if they were just exceptionally heavy presences, or if he was still a little sensitive to them following his last attempt at connecting with them over the piece of cloth Brock has given him to work with.

“Come here,” Roman said suddenly. “I want to try something…” He eyed the sacrificial circle with a thoughtful look.

Brock huffed quietly when the other boy asked him to come back. He knew he wouldn’t be able to just run after the things because of how fast they were, but damned if his brain still didn’t believe that’s exactly what he was going to do. He clenched his jaw and twirled his dagger once before shoving it and the shut off flashlight into his bag before carefully slipping out of the wooded area and moving back over to the other boy.

“What ya got in mind? We sing koombaya an’ hope they really into campfire ditties?” Brock said in his biting sarcastic tone that he couldn’t help but let slip out from time to time. Truth be told, he was curious what Roman had in mind. He’d taken a delve into these kids’ minds, so as much as he was reluctant to trust him, he still did. 

“You brought me for a reason, Brock,” Roman countered. It went without saying that he was telling Brock to trust him, despite the fact Roman had little idea of if this would work or not. From his brief glimpses into their existence, Roman gathered enough to consider they might have a very personal aversion to the idea of sacrifice, which was why, with no warning whatsoever, Roman grabbed Brock and threw him down hard onto the ground in the middle of the circle.

 

“I just want to piss them off a bit. Go with it,” he instructed, looking down at Brock as he drew out the small concealed knife he’d brought with because -- _look_ , he wasn’t going to be caught completely defenseless out in the woods in the middle of the night, okay?

“I’m going to sacrifice you now.” There was a wink, and then he started muttering some complete bullshit about an ‘old one’ and ‘planes beyond the earth’. It sounded convincing enough. ...For Hollywood, maybe. He even held his hand out and looked as if he was about to cut open his palm over Brock for effect. It was working though, he felt their anger rising, and closing in.

Brock was taken by surprise when he was thrown to the ground, wind knocked out of him momentarily as he laid there, staring up at the boy. And he wanted to laugh, his lip curling into a small smile. Maybe it seemed patronizing for him to think it, but in the back of his mind, Brock’s ego was always at work and he just told himself he’d make short work of the boy if he were to try anything. But then the smile came from elsewhere as well. This was not an all too unfamiliar position for them. They’d been in an almost identical place months ago, but the situation ended in a very different manner. It almost shamed him that his body went into autopilot, as if remembering where things _did_ lead last time they threw each other around, and blood started rushing down below. But he wouldn’t acknowledge it, instead forcing a fake grimace on his face, giving him a little shove. Not enough to force him off, because this plan did intrigue him, but enough to give a little warning. 

“Ya jus’ wan be on top’a me again.” He said with a shit-eating grin on his face, but then allowed the situation to play out and did his best to feign a fearful look on his face. Brock wasn’t in Drama, it was easy to tell. But it didn’t make it any less believable to whatever these things were, because a shriek emanated from the woods and the bushes started to shake nearby. He wasn’t sure if they were just trying to distract Roman or if they were trying to scare him off. Clearly if they wanted to kill him, they would have. Brock quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the other boy.

“Ya made tha lil tykes angry.”

If Roman noticed, he didn’t respond. He was completely into his pseudo-sacrifice and attempts to get the attention of these kids that Brock was actually ranking a little low on his immediate attention. For once. When he felt the kids were sufficiently irritated, Roman dropped the act. He didn’t cut his palm, and stopped with the idiotic chanting.

That was of course when Brock called attention to their position, to which Roman did nothing but smirk. He took his time getting off of the other boy, however, and gave a little shift as he did.

“Good, at least now they’re out in the open.” He gestured out to them as if to say he was done helping for now. “All you, hero.”  
As if on cue, the children started to emerge, hunched over, wary and clearly not a fan of the area or being so out in the open. They eyed both Roman and Brock with black eyes, assessing the situation. 

“...I’m going to take it that since they’re not attacking, they’re open to dialogue.”

Roman had shifted on him, possibly knowingly, and it caused a small groan in the back of Brock’s throat. For once he was thankful for the interference of monsters, because it saved him from making bad decisions. The children circled them like jungle cats, more attention on Roman since he threatened sacrifice, but curiously watching both when such acts did not happen. Brock sat up and stared back at them, taking in the dark void beyond their eyes. He wasn’t scared, but they did bring an unnerving aura about them. When it was clear that Roman was not going to kill him, the older one spoke.

“Why do you follow us?” He hissed at Brock. Brock got the feeling he was the one the knife flew at. 

“I dunno. You ate a lady. That’s a pretty big reason.” Brock scoffed a bit. The younger one backed up, looking ashamed. The older one shot him a supportive look, then glared back at Brock.

“That wasn’t our fault. She wasn’t right. We were so hungry. We just needed a place to stay.” Suddenly they seemed scared. Brock noticed it. Suddenly everything Roman said started making sense. 

“Yeah… looked that way. So what’re ya? Children of the corn?” Brock hissed back. The kids started backing up. Clearly this wasn’t working out too well. 

Roman listened to the rather antagonistic back and forth between the two parties, and he might as well have been looking at his nails for all he really gave a shit about it. They were eyeing him, but this wasn’t really his fight anymore, was it? Brock was supposed to kill them or something, even if they were just little … demon kids. Not unlike his little brother, actually.

“Oh for the love of --” When the kids started backing up, Roman put his hand on Brock’s chest and stepped in front of him a little. The backing up stopped, but they eyed Roman in a much less curious and much _more_ wary way. He was the one who had feigned sacrifice to lure them out, after all.

“Excuse my friend, kids. He’s a bit insensitive to our kind.” That seemed to get their attention, but the oldest did not seem to buy Roman’s words.

“ _Our_ kind?” He asked, glancing to some of the other children. “You are not one of us.”

“Well, uh, no. Not exactly. You’re made. I’m pure.” There was a tiny lilt of pride to Roman’s words, but it was likely only Brock would notice. Flashes of emotional ran across the childrens’ faces: excitement, fear, hesitation, confusion.

“And basically, if we don’t figure out some way for you _not_ to kill and eat people, this guy is going to have to kill and eat you instead.” Roman paused, glancing back to Brock and then to the children. “Okay, okay, I was kidding about the eating, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

Brock’s lip contorted into a grimace as he listened to Roman talk. Yeah, maybe the diplomacy was working on the children better than his ‘BROCK SMASH’ routine but Roman made it sound so… sinister. Well maybe it was sinister. Brock was going to have to kill these children. He had no question about it in his mind. But something about the hope that Roman seemed to have for it touched him. Another surprise that only endeared the boy to him more. Goddammit. 

“We already have someone taking care of us.” The older child said, as if dismissing what Roman suggested. But what did he mean by that? Was someone killing for them? Or had they found a way to live peacefully? Something told him it was more likely the former. Brock slipped his hand in his bag and gripped the handle of his dagger and looked at the children. They seemed to multiply from the two he’d seen weeks before. Maybe they had? He didn’t know how they worked.

“Why’d you come? When he acted like he was gon’ sacrifice me?” Brock distracted them with a question so he could plan his next move. But he was also curious. Wouldn’t demonic creatures live for that stuff?

“We… it just scares us is all. We don’t want it to happen to anyone else…” The older child spoke once more. Something odd about him. LIke a sense of humanity. Remorse. It took Brock off guard. Everything about these kids took him off guard. And he didn’t like it. Without much thought, he quickly threw his dagger at the older boy, impaling him in the shoulder. At that all the children started to scream at once. The older child pulled the knife out and threw it to the ground and turned, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. The other children all but vanished as well. Brock blinked for a few moments, actually feeling somewhat sorry for what he had done. They weren’t real kids right? Just monsters. Just _monsters_.

Roman … Saw red. They had been making progress up until Brock went off the reservation, or so he thought. “BROCK!” Roman yelled, something he hardly did. Hell, Roman hardly raised his voice at people, let alone _yelled_ at them. And that was far from all he did, with his temper flaring up, Roman lost sight of his actions long enough to _shove_ Brock, and the hope was that he’d hurt from whatever he collided with. Roman didn’t care. Not then. And he didn’t stop to see if Brock was okay, either, partly because he knew Brock would be fine (he hadn’t shoved him hard enough to kill the idiot), and part because he was too busy launching into a tirade.

 

“Aren’t you seeing a bigger picture here?! They said ‘they don’t want it to happen to anyone else’ which means _someone_ is out there doing --” Something. Demonizing? Sacrificing? Whatever. “-- _That_ , to THEM.” The kids were victims who made victims, sure. Perhaps that was easy for Brock. Perhaps it was black and white. Right now was a test for Roman, he realized, as he stood there glaring at Brock.

His features softened a little. “...Is that what you’re going to do to me eventually?”

Brock fell back and hit his tailbone on one of the rocks on the outer rim of the circle _hard_. A broken tailbone was not going to be fun until it got healed. But he couldn’t be mad. He knew that Roman identified with the children. Hell, Brock identified with them. Growing up lost and confused with strange abilities and cravings nobody could relate to with what seemed nobody to love you. It hit home. Maybe he panicked and tried killing that part of him, now that he was so close to happiness. Maybe he too associated the kids with Roman and he was trying to kill him by association. Because Roman was a puzzle wrapped in a mystery that complicated things for him and part of him hated that. 

But as it was, Roman was right. Those kids must have seen things in these woods. Brock often forgot that monsters could do horrible things and still have more humanity in them than some of the people he knew. 

“They… they still kill people, Roman. I have to…” What? Kill them? Punish them? Human kids didn’t have much a moral compass. Give them horrific cravings and demonic powers and he couldn’t imagine they’d react any different. But then Roman’s question It hit him in the gut like a punch. But the truth of the matter is… that’s why Brock even started talking to Roman to begin with. Why they ended up starting a sexual relationship. Why he listened to what Roman had to say even if he was driving him batshit insane. Because one day he knew he might have to kill him. And he wanted to be ready.

“...It’s not… If you don’t kill nobody, then no. But I gotta duty’t do, Rome… Anyone in this town does that shit, I gotta take’m out.” Hypocritical he was. Adam butchered Clint Balfour’s tongue. Lincoln used his abilities to kill someone even if they were a criminal. Brock protected both of them, but because he could defend them. Adam wasn’t in his right mind, Lincoln was protecting himself. It still caused the Redeemer to stir in him, but it was easier to trick the damn thing into not caring if there was a loophole. 

“I’m tryn’ not’t hurt you, Roman.” He said, leaving the statement open since it meant more than one thing. Brock stood slowly, hunching a bit in pain before hobbling over to collect his now bloody dagger from the ground. 

“Maybe our lil adventures together ain’t such a good idea…” He said, wiping the blood from his dagger on a small rag from his bag. 

“It’s gon’ end in pain for everyone.”

“Of course they do, Brock,” Roman spat, barely resisting rolling his eyes. “But if they’re all dead, we’ll never find out who sacrificed some random kids to a darker power.” It was speculation, really, but their aversion to his test with Brock and how scared they’d been of the sudden motion … Roman thought it might be fair to assume they were possessed, or something similar enough.

“Have you ever thought maybe you could _save_ some of these creatures, darling?” The question was partially rhetorical in that Brock’s answer meant very little to Roman right then. “If you haven’t, then you deserve to be ripped apart by each and every one of them.” Just as it was rare to see him yell, the coldness that seemed to encompass his words in that moment was an equally off key tone in comparison to his usual upbeat, run of the mill amused state of being.

With his temper in check, Roman’s general attitude seemed to fizzle down into something more distant. He wasn’t aggressive or even angry anymore, but the grins, flirting and bad jokes had yet to return. “They’d be a fine idea if you’d let me _actually_ help you. Listening to me included,” Roman paused to shot him a pointed glance, and then a shrug at Brock’s next statement. 

“Everything ends,” was all he really replied. “You should probably get yourself looked at.” It was the closest to an apology as he would give, and considering he knew how Brock typically healed himself, it spoke volumes that he wasn’t offering to do it himself.

It was an interesting concept Roman offered up. Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to save the innocent? Maybe he was supposed to save the damned as well? Offer them up a second chance? Wasn’t that what he did with his closest friends anyway? Over half of them weren’t completely human and had done something horrible, and yet he continued trying to guide them to the light. Hell, even in his own way he did it for Roman, checking in on him and making sure he wasn’t going past innocent bunnies for a thrill kill. But then, maybe Brock did deserve to be torn apart. He did a shit job at saving the people he was supposed to save these days anyway.

“...You’re right. Goddammit, I hate’t but… you’re right.” He said through his teeth, admitting defeat.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered out. He should have let Roman talk to the kids. He just acted on impulse like he always did. He knew maybe he should listen to Roman. Funny that he was slowly starting to trust him when he felt like he really shouldn’t. But after letting other people get close, tell him how _they_ were going to handle these things and then turning around and watching them either stab him in the back or die, he had a hard time trusting anyone these days. But after that, their interactions were short. Roman was annoyed. Probably horrified. Brock horrified _Roman_. There was a twist. He just gave him a solemn nod and slipped his dagger into his bag.

“We’shd prolly head back then.” He said, quietly hobbling back in the direction they came.


	4. Autoshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of Tic Tac Toe in the autoshop after school ends unexpectedly.

Practice was _exhausting_ today, but Roman was pretty distracted and it was obvious enough. Coach was on his ass, and a few teammates had a few choice words for him, all of which Roman chose not to take seriously lest they find themselves on the other side of a lethal temperamental downpour. 

He was on his way back from the locker rooms, and not quite ready to go home yet. His parents were in one of their Moods which meant he’d be responsible for entertaining his awful little brother. No, not Roman’s idea of a good evening at all. When a noise from the garage caught his attention, Roman naturally gravitated that way out of sheer curiosity and as a way to do anything but what he _should_ presently be doing.

Brock. _Of course_. A little twist of irritation in his chest told him he ought to keep on walking, but, well … 

“How’s the back,” he called, and he was walking in before he knew it, dumping his gym bag and backpack on the floor against the nearest wall and walking over to watch Brock work.

Brock had to say the start of the new semester had gotten off to a weird start. These demon kids were just business as usual honestly, even if he hadn’t really dealt with monsters that he might be better off trying to save than kill. But there was this thing with Roman admitting he somewhat cared for him on New Years. That was weird. 

Oh and there was also that threesome he just had with his boyfriend and Maja. That was new.

In any case, Brock found himself wanting to stay out of the Armory for once. Stay away from business. Give Adam a break. Give himself a break from his day to day. And Mr. Carson was giving him until the end of the week to fix the engine on this car. Brock decided what the hell, he’d stay after school and do a bit of extra work. People should have known he was distracted by the fact that he was _voluntarily_ doing schoolwork, even if it was in Auto Shop. Though he had to admit, he didn’t mind it. In fact, he’d hoped he’d be able to use his newfound mechanical skills to fix up a car for himself one of these days. It was the little things that kept him going. 

Brock was leaned over the engine tinkering when he heard a familiar voice behind him. He turned to look, wiping sweat from his brow but only managing to smear a little bit of oil on his face just above his eye. 

“It’sa… it’s better.” He nodded, wiping grease on a small red rag and laying it on the edge of the hood. 

“Weren’t football season in the fall?” He asked, leaning against the car, large arms crossed. “Wasn’t aware we even still had a football team with how much a deal they make outta tha rowin’ team.”

Ew, why’d he ask. He knew what Brock’s healing entailed and while sure, he hadn’t pushed him hard enough to do last damage, Roman was still suspicious enough to regret asking. And being a little bitter that he did. “Great,” he said, in a much more chipper tone than he meant.

“Coach wanted us to practice. He’s crazy. Something about getting lazy over the break, I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.” Roman moved closer, clearly being nosy and peeking in at what Brock was doing. He didn’t take shop and he didn’t fix cars, so … he knew very little about what the hell he was looking at. And again, he didn’t care, so he wasn’t about to ask.

“It’s a little weird to see you at school after hours.” He leaned against the car beside Brock. “Want company?” It was barely a question. He was probably going to stay anyway, and they both knew it.

Brock clicked his tongue against the side of his jaw and nodded at Roman’s explanation. He didn’t claim to understand sports like most macho guys his age. He was only on the wrestling team for a few years because… violence. But anything else with all the… _rules_ was something he didn’t care to understand. 

“Well if’n ya ask me, looks like coach needs’t follow his own advise an run a few laps himself. All them Buds are gettin’ to’m.” He said smartly with a little shrug, whilst letting his eyes study Roman up and down for a moment. Brock had to admit, he didn’t mind the company. Well, actually he didn’t want to admit it, but even when he sneered and called Roman a demon he felt some strange comfort with his presence. 

“Uh… sure. Jus’ watch where ya sittin’, devil boy. Oil be everywhere in here.” He said, giving a little nod to his own bare arms that were covered in black streaks. He picked up his small wrench and went back to what he was doing when Roman got there. 

“Isn’t he just living up to the stereotype of the American high school coach, though?” Roman wondered, but he did laugh a little at Brock’s comments, and it was a genuine laugh. He shook his head and tsked, reaching out to poke Brock’s check. “Not everyone can be built like you, honey.”

Roman kicked his stuff aside and lowered himself to sit in one of the dry areas of the garage, opening his backpack as if he had any real intention of reading or doing any homework. He was bored and looking for an escape, but even his defiance had its limits. 

“What’s on your mind?” He tilted his head. It was a shot in the dark, but it was strange enough to see Brock here that he thought he’d ask anyway.

Brock finished tightening a bolt before looking up to him with a quirked eyebrow. What was on his mind? Too many things. Worry for one. Brock had reached a point in his relationship with Adam where they were so in love that it scared him, because he hadn’t been this far in without fucking it up. His urges were never far from his mind. Yeah, an occasional threesome with Maja would help to quell it, but that was not something that happened all the time. And not something that really mattered. Maja was a friend. Sex was actually quite meaningless. It was the attention that Brock liked. Funny how a guy that grew up being largely ignored by his family would gravitate toward attention. And Roman gave him a lot of that. Even when he was a total dick to him. Roman was strange. But then Brock always liked strange. And he hated that he liked it. 

Then there was the fact that he wasn’t sure what to do with these kids. They’d already killed at least one known person. Maybe two if Jillian was involved. And there was something weird going on in the woods that involved that creepy rock circle. Brock wasn’t sure if he was prepared for another big battle after losing Logan. He still hadn’t properly grieved the death of his former best friend. He kept a lot of strange feelings to himself lately. 

Still. He lied. To save face. Save awkwardness. “Not much. Just tryna’ live like a normal boy for once. Ain’t you never wanna do that? Jus’... forget ya have a face ya gotta hide from everyone else?” Because Brock hid everything now and he hated it. His job. His feelings. His _relationship_. It was ironic that the one thing that made him happiest was also the one thing that made him saddest. And was he just imagining things or did Adam enjoy Maja’s touch more than his own? Maybe he was just giving into his insecurities. He knew Maja wouldn’t do that to him with their history. But then maybe Brock was just looking for something to worry about to forget about his own mind’s betrayal, which currently involved hiding his dimpled half smile behind the open hood of the car when Roman gave him one of those curious looks he often did. 

“Why ya ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Roman started thoughtfully. He did and didn’t buy the answer. It was layered, he was certain, but he supposed it wasn’t a complete lie or stretch for Brock to just want to be normal every now and again. He had moments of wondering what it would be like too. Or if he _was_ painstakingly normal in comparison to a lot of his kind, which presented the probably of feeling things a little too humanly. Things like the boy standing in front of him, for example. “I think I’m pretty normal, considering.” It wasn’t quite a lie, either. He hid in plain sight as that other side of everyone he was surrounded with. That was his true other face.

He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s odd to see you here. And our last encounter --” Roman stopped short. He was _not_ about to apologize for his reaction, no way. But he’d hoped it had given Brock some things to think about regarding his approach to his job, and if that was one of the things on the other boy’s mind, well … he didn’t feel bad at all. 

Finally, he succumbed to merely giving the real answer, “I was just concerned.”

Brock stopped and wiped his hands again and licked his lips before turning to face the other boy again. He leaned against the car and tapped his fingers on the edge while he looked at Roman, studying his face to check his sincerity. If this was still a game to Roman, he was very good at it.

“Concerned? Why concerned? My ass’s fine. I overreacted wit’ them kids. You was right.” He shrugged, moving to the toolbox and shuffling around in it without any real purpose just to look busy. 

“But uh.. thanks I s’pose.” He nodded a bit, looking halfway over his shoulder at him. 

“So ya jus’ gon’ show up places from now on an’ tell me how concerned ya are about me? Do ya mean that when ya say’t or are ya jus’ tryn to catch me with my guard down?” He turned, looking him up and down once more, as if trying to interrogate him. Because it was working. Every conversation he had with this softer Roman was lowering his defenses more each time. 

“Would you rather me not say it anymore? “ Roman wondered, almost snappy, but he curved his irritation. It was technically a fair question that Brock presented. 

“I'm concerned because of how pathetic you looked last time we parted, if you must know.” But Roman would not elaborate. Elaborating would be admitting some slight care about the fate of the kids, or perhaps some care as to what happened to them in the first place. 

“Haven't you noticed how much space I've been giving you, even when we see each other? I'm not trying to wear you down, I'm letting you be happy.” Roman paused, realizing how nice that sounded from him, so he had to tack on a petty little, “For now.”

“Pathetic? How am I pathetic when I’m just tryna’ do a job? When I’m jus’ not used’t a monster bein’ on tha face of a kid? This is different than anythin’ I’ve dealt with before.” Brock grimaced, leaning against the counter that the toolbox sat on. He clicked his tongue again and stared down the other boy, a small scowl taking over his face at his next comment. 

“For now? What the hell does’at even mean?” He shook his head.

“Ya start out murderin’ bunnies jus’ so I pay attention to ya, then when I get serious wit’ someone else, ya show up an’ suddenly start carin’ about me? Like what the fuck, Roman?” He smashed his fist into the counter, a crack forming in the marble top. 

“I jus’ had my ‘motions toyed with for two fuckin’ months by people that called themselves my best friends. I find a bit’a happiness an’ you show up claimin’ you care so damn much and I don’t ‘preciate the games.” Why was he getting so upset? They were just fuck buddies earlier last year. Yeah, he was secretly real fond of Roman, but he wasn’t sure why it made him so… _emotional_. 

“FUCK! I’m sorry. I’m jus’... stressed out about so much these days. Forget everythin’ I jus’ said. I need a break.” He shook his head, sliding up on the counter and leaning his head against the wall.

“Yeah, different than anything else, and yet you reacted to it the exact same as anything.” The lack of pity in his tone disappeared just as quickly as it came. They’d had this argument once, and Roman was not about to reopen it again. He’d said his piece, both physically and verbally. It was up to Brock now.

Roman was still sitting, so he looked up at Brock as the other boy leaned back against the counter. he considered giving up, but the power exchange of the situation demanded that perhaps he should remain sitting. Brock had some things to get off his chest, and by standing Roman might challenge or threaten the release of all those delicate pearls of feelings and information that Brock was currently deciding to shower him with. Some of it could be speculated on already, but others placed new light on things Roman had only wondered about lately. Namely, where Brock’s actually feelings ranked between attraction and _something more_.

“Did it not cross your mind that I wanted your attention because I _cared then_?” Roman hissed it. He was getting (unfairly) tired of everyone speculating that he was playing games all the time, but then, he usually played games, so what did he want. He was so close to throwing a hurricane-level tantrum, though. _Like hell_ was he forgetting any of this, but he didn’t dare say that either.

Finally, he stood, grabbing a notebook from his back and walking over to Brock as a slowed pace. He was flipping through the reams of paper, looking for something. “You haven’t seen me _really_ play a game. Darlin’,” he made an extra point to speak a little more like Brock on that last word, “And you’d be too easy to play it on. Maybe at first, yeah, I kinda was. You know, you’re so emotional and you care so much -- perfect testing ground. But now?” Roman shrugged and closed the rest of the distance between, his smile once again holding that little hint of _something else_ in it as he ….

Set a blank page down beside Brock on the counter. “We should play tic-tac-toe. I’m terrible at it, but I’m obsessed.” Roman flashed another smile, but whatever was behind it before was gone again. He held out a pen, offering Brock first go. “Would you like to be hugs, or kisses?”

Honestly though? It never crossed his mind back then that Roman might have liked him more than what they were. Back then, Brock still harbored secret feelings for Lincoln. Still treated people like sexual objects to filter out the anger he felt for being _chosen_ against his will. Back then, Roman was just an object to him. An annoying, possibly evil object. One that he ended up getting to know a lot about and enjoyed spending time with occasionally. But still an object. Now, he was about another year older. He’d fought more creatures. Learned more life lessons. Lost more than he could bear thinking about. He was almost totally different. But the fondness for Roman stayed. 

“...Why ya never tell me then?” He asked, knowing the answer. Because Brock would have scoffed back then. Because Brock would have been cruel. Because this person he was talking to now was sensitive and sweet despite having a twisted dark side and Brock would have relished crushing his spirit back then. So much for hero boy. 

Brock listened to Roman go on about ‘playing a game,’ carrying on like some supervillain monologue in a movie. Brock was fully prepared to roll his eyes, launch into another defensive tirade, when the boy pulled out a paper. Tic Tac Toe? Brock stared at him for a long lingering moment. Then… a bright smile followed by laughter. A release of nervous tension he’d had built up for a long while. 

“You’re so weird, hellspawn.” He chuckled. He tapped a finger against his own bottom lip for a moment while he considered the offer. Then he reached out and grabbed the pen, hand lingering a touch a tad longer against Roman’s than maybe he should have. 

“I’ll be X’s. They more satisfyin’ to draw for some reason.” He joked a bit, stealing the coveted middle section with an X. 

Roman laughed a loud and dismissive laugh at Brock’s question. “You’re hilarious.” Why’d he never tell Brock. That was rich. On top of all the reasons Brock was listing in his own mind, Roman could hardly begin to wrap his head around human feelings and all of this bullshit that came along with them. It took him this long to figure out the basic meaning of _caring_ about someone. He wanted Brock’s attention so he could ruin his life. Or be in his life. Or mean something in his life. Or … Ugh, the all ran together on the better days, and crossed over completely on the worst.

The smile was well worth the dramatic build up, he decided. He’d meant what he’d said, of course, but he might as well put his theater skills to use here and now and help Brock relax a bit by dressing everything up toward some epic and yet wholly anticlimactic revelation. He couldn’t believe how they overlooked his talent in theater, _honestly_.

Roman noticed the lingering touch, but did not draw attention to it. He wanted to see how many of those little touches would occur, and whether they were accidental or testing some waters.

“Right in for the kill, of course,” Roman teased, watching Brock take the middle section. He drew an O in the top right. “You’re weird too. You said you needed a break, so here you are.”

“Oh always in for tha kill. Someone once told me I should always think’f survival first or somethin like that. Consider this just’a tease.” Brock smirked halfway, acknowledging a statement Roman made to him weeks ago about how he should always be on guard. He responded to Roman’s move by placing an X in the top middle.

“I ain't played this since like… Third grade.” He gave a little awkward half smile and a shrug as he leaned back, waiting for Roman's next move. He almost asked if he remembered what he was like that far back but then he remembered Roman had only moved to town a few years ago.

“I'd like’t think I wasn't such a bastard back then but… I prolly still was. Still, things were simpler. Sometimes I miss it. I mean, my dad was shit, but at least I ain't know no better back then.” Maybe he was too young to be making that kind of statement but given his line of work and the things he'd been through, he had to grow up faster than many of his peers. It sucked.

Roman returned the smirk, appreciating the world play, but other than that, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Ah-ah, I see you. No way.” He hurriedly placed an O in the bottom middle, cutting Brock off. This round, at least.

He listened with interest, a tiny little smile playing on his lips. “A tiny little jackass Brock. How precious.” Roman meant it, in his own little insulting way. In truth, Roman was torn between shushing Brock and letting him continue. It seemed like the other boy needed to talk and let off some steam, but it also seemed like Brock needed some time to _not_ contemplate heavy things and harsh realities. “Are you saying ignorance is bliss? ...That’s the saying, right?”

“There’s a saying in Japanese…” Roman thought about it, recalling the exact phrases, and then speaking them to Brock in their native tongue. He tapped the paper, as if rushing the other boy, while he continued to translate between languages in his mind. Eventually, he explained the proverb. “It’s like … It’s saying your environment shapes you. Basically. So maybe _you’re_ not shit because _he_ was.”

“Uh… yeah I guess that’s what I’m gettin’ at. All the shit I know now. Or’ve done. It’s uh… I donno. Sometime’s I jus’ like’t think how life would be different if I wasn’t _chosen_. Like… would I be a math nerd’r somethin?”

The other boy spoke in his native Japanese and a little smirk crept at the side of Brock’s lips. He always envied people that knew more than one language. It reminded him of the world outside of Onancock he was never likely to see. 

“Maybe. But he’s dead an’... I guess I’m bein’ shaped more by tha’ people round me now.” THAT was certainly the truth. His two months of hell and heartbreak shaped him to be more cynical. His relationship with Adam taught him that not everything was impossible. And this strange friendship he had with Roman taught him the importance of actually trying to see life from another perspective. A long cry from the beer and violence credo his dad taught him. But amidst all that he almost forgot it was his turn and drew an X at the top left corner.

“I get the wondering what if…” Roman stopped. “I mean I guess. I never really do. Except maybe about you sometimes.” He gave a sly smile, but his attention went back to the game. Huh. He had Brock pinned, didn’t he? It was a rare win. He wasn’t lying about being terrible at the game.

“Yeah, I’d guess so. Hopefully for the better?” Roman marked an O in the bottom right, before passing the pen back to Brock.

“You’re in check, honey.” Wrong game, but whatever. It sounded good.

Brock stopped and curiously looked at the other boy, legs coming up on the counter and crossing in front of him as he adjusted himself where he sat.

“What ya mean ‘What if?’” He asked, not in an intrusive manner. Just genuinely wanting to know. Yeah, he had Adam and still knew that Roman was up to no good sometimes, but it still didn’t stop the little bit of heat coming to his cheeks. 

“Maybe for tha better. Maybe not. I’m shamefully real easy’t influence.” He admitted with a shrug, taking the pen again, finger brushing Roman’s once more. On accident? Maybe. Probably. Right? He drew an X in the bottom left to cut Roman off. 

“What bout you? Would you say you was more’a hellion when ya was a lil tyke? Because you seem… I dunno… more pleasant recently.” He joked a bit, though not ENTIRELY joking. Maybe he was just noticing Roman more now but it was something that was always there. 

Roman bit his lip, not really wanting to answer in a completely serious way, so he decided to make a joke of it. “ _Brock_ , could you imagine if we were dating? Wouldn’t that be hilarious?” He actually laughed and shook his head.

“ _Are you_? I hadn’t noticed.” He shot Brock a shit-eating grin at the comment of Brock being easy to influence, but he meant it as more of a tease than an insult.

“I was terrible. At sleepovers, I’d tell my friends the scariest stories I could think of and then watch them have nightmares all night.” He probably shouldn’t have looked proud of that accomplishment, but … It was Roman. Of course he was proud.

“Tic-tac-toe!” Roman marked his las O, middle right, and drew a line through it. He won! “Do you know which one the O represents in hugs and kisses? Because that’s the one you owe me.”

Brock quirked his head once more. Roman presented it like a joke, but somehow it seemed like it wasn’t completely. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “I dunno. I don’t think it’d be _hilarious_. We’d prolly look real good t’gether.” He nodded with a little smirk. He already knew how they fit together, how good they looked together naked. Though that seemed like forever ago and times were different now. At his little comment about being easy to influence, he gave him a little shove.

“Shut up, fool.” He said, though playfully. 

“Yeah well, lil did they know most’a them scary stories was true. Kids’r stupid. But it’s a blessin’t be that stupid sometimes.” He gave a little nod and watched as Roman won the game. Damn. He wasn’t really paying that much attention.

“I uh… I dunno. Which one d’ya think’t is?” He gave a little shrug, looking down at the paper and squinting. How the hell did people get kisses and hugs from X’s and O’s anyway? People are… _weird_.

“Well duh, of course we would. I’m involved in that combination.” It was easy to downplay the seriousness of something with Roman’s ego. He just laughed things off or made it about himself and how shallow he could be. This was not quite so different.

“Not all of them, though. I just have a knack for details and dramatics.” Obviously.

“I thiiink,” Roman started. He knew which one he wanted it to be, and quite frankly, he actually didn’t know which was which. “Kiss.” _But_ , in the interest of being mildly considerate, Roman did at least turn and tap his cheek. Brock could spare that at least, couldn’t he?

 

Brock just gave a little harrumph at Roman’s ego. Which… was not unlike his own honestly. He just shook his head and laughed lightly at the boy.

“That’s’n understatement.” He said in jest of the boy’s flair for dramatics. He had SO much drama it just fell from his pores. 

Brock thought for a moment what he should do. Honestly, he had no idea which was which, so the boy could be being honest. He looked over him cautiously. It was just a kiss on the cheek right? Brock could control himself enough for that. So he leaned in, nervously oddly enough, and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He pulled away and hovered a moment before giving him another odd look and chuckling.

“You uh… got a lil oil on ya face now.” He licked his thumb and instinctively patted at it, trying to clean it off.

Easy to influence indeed. Roman allowed the chaste little peck to remain what it was. Brock lingered, and he felt it. He did turn, at least, to face the other boy, determined to force eye contact which he found Brock typically avoided with him. 

“Good break?” He asked while Brock cleaned his cheek. The other boy should know he didn't actually mind being dirty, but Roman wasn't about to turn away this contact. He did, however, move a little closer, but if it came up he'd simply pass it off as giving Brock a better reach to get the smudge off him. 

Yeah. Brock could recall how dirty he liked it. But that was a lifetime ago. And that was different. But somehow they were eye to eye with Brock’s thumb on Roman’s cheek, faces not too far apart from each other. He could feel Roman’s breath against his own lips with how close they were. Their faces weren’t that close before were they? It was like some sort of magnetic force he tried hard to resist. He found his hand move up to Roman’s chest, pushing away, or at least trying to. So it was very much a surprise to him when he found he couldn’t.

And he somehow found himself leaning in. Everything in his mind screaming at him to stop but he couldn’t. And he pressed his lips against Roman’s for a few short seconds. And then…

“I-I need’t… I gotta go.” Brock pulled away, upset look on his face. Goddammit he was so stupid.

Roman would've moved away if Brock pushed him, but he didn't, so he stayed there pressed against the other's hand, curious about where this would go next and how far it would carry. There was this look in Brock’s eyes that said enough, right before he kissed Roman, but Roman didn't even get the chance to respond before Brock was gone again. 

He leaned back against the counter in a position that could suggest he was okay with the idea of being pinned to it.

“Sure, gorgeous. I can close this place up for you.”

The way that the clothes hung to Roman's body was suddenly of extreme interest to Brock. He licked his lips and drank in the boy in the position he was in. Why the fuck was his mind doing this to him? Everything felt treasonous to him right now, but all he wanted to do in that moment was tear off Roman's clothes and make him scream.

Brock was a fucking idiot.

Brock approached him again, standing between Roman's legs as he leaned back on the counter before him. Hands moved around his waist and pulled him in roughly as he touched noses to him, breath hot against his lips.

“If’n ya care so much about me…” He said, breathing heavily, fingertips dancing lightly to his lower back under his shirt. And then his tone shifted and he gave Roman a shove.

“...then leave me alone. I got somethin real good goin on wit Adam and I can't think straight when ya near me.” He said, coming back down to earth. He pulled away and grabbed his own bag.

“You’n I just ain't possible. I'm sorry.” He said in a low tone. Though his voice was shaky. Like he wished he could say otherwise. Because something about Roman was so interesting and kept him coming back for more. But he loved Adam sincerely and the thought of losing him scared him so much. 

And yet he kinda wished Roman didn't listen. Goddammit.

If Roman hadn’t already known Brock was dating Adam, he did now. Brock had this tendency to say things just as he reaffirmed them with action. Like not being able to think straight, and revealing a secret in the same breath.

Still, Roman exhaled the breath he’d taken when Brock got so close to him, and remained silent for several moments after Brock had pulled away. He didn’t have anything snappy to say right now, so he went with the ever-simple: “Okay.” Okay he’d leave Brock alone? Okay they weren’t possible?

Just okay.

Brock looked back at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking by the look on his face. On the one hand, maybe he had just been toying with Brock the whole time and it stopped being fun. Maybe this stopped it? But on the other hand… Maybe Brock _did_ mean something to him. And that made everything feel just… sad. If things were different, he’d apologize. Take it back. Probably even kiss him again. But things weren’t different, so it was best to just let things as they were.

“Thank you…” He said after looking Roman straight in the eyes for a long, lingering moment. Not a gaze of dominance or anger. Maybe a little guilt. But he knew how often Roman tried to get him to look into his eyes, the least he could do was respect that. 

“I’ll seeya round, Roman…” He said with a small nod, biting his lip and turning for the door. He didn’t know why that seemed so hard, but he knew it was the right thing. Adam was his _prince_. Roman didn’t know him the same way. He wasn’t sure he ever would. When he reached the door he turned and gave him one last look, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.


	5. Little Intimacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Roman try to work past their awkward kiss to continue on with their investigation.

**Things were awkward right now.** Brock kissed Roman. He wasn’t forced. He wasn’t bewitched into it. And to be honest, as much as he could try to pawn it off on his sex addiction, it wasn’t due to that. It was something more. Something about Roman drew him in and it was fucking scary to him. Especially when he already thought he’d found his happiness and was doing what he could to protect that. He needed to stay away from him. 

And yet...

And yet there was some unfinished business that they both needed to attend to. He had uncovered some new clues and needed to investigate things a little further, but if he had to talk to these kids he was sure now he wouldn’t get very far. He needed Roman for this. They trusted him. _He_ trusted him, much to his own chagrin. 

He tried apologizing over text but things didn’t quite end where he wanted it. So he might as well just go for it and go to him. He still had a job to do, he can’t just let this shit stand in his way. So he arrived at Roman’s house for the first time in about a year. The last time he was there was in a warmer month, and he spent most of that in the backyard _punishing_ Roman for his faux-bunny sacrifice. This time wasn’t about that. He knocked on the door and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around as he waited to see if anyone was home.

A few voices could be heard echoing throughout the house, and then finally Roman’s right behind the door. He hadn’t planned on doing much today for weather-related reasons, which meant spending most of the time going back and forth with his brother and rolling his eyes at whatever crazy vacation his parents were planning for their anniversary. So far, he’d gathered some mountain climbing in Eastern Europe. _Fun_.

When he opened the door, he was _not_ expecting Brock. For a moment, he just stared absently, and then pulled himself together so it was a little more Roman-like when he spoke. 

“What, Brock?”

Brock stood there for a moment, looking down at the ground with an awkward half smile when the other boy stared. Finally Roman broke the silence. Brock pulled down the sides of his knit hat over his ears and gave a shrug.

“Well I been doin’ some searchin’ for them kids an’ I figure you’d wanna go over a few things?” He said, big blue eyes soulfully, apologetically looking at him, saying things he wasn’t yet prepared to say with his actual mouth. 

“If’n I find’em, If I’mma save them I’mma need’t talk to them an’ they prolly don’ trust me so... “ He looked down and kicked his boot back and forth with another shrug. “I kinda _need_ you, I s’pose.”

 

 _Ugh_ he had suggested that, hadn’t he? There was a tinge of selfishness that flared up in Roman that said he should just shut the door and let Brock figure it out on his own. The kids weren’t his responsibility, and whether they lived or died made no difference in his life. But another part…

Roman sighed and opened the door wide enough for Brock to walk in, and inwardly cursed the other boy’s stupid blue eyes every step of the way.

“We can go --” Roman paused when his dad started singing in the kitchen. “...To my room.”

Nicholas poked his head out from the kitchen, singing interrupted when he heard his son speaking to someone. “Guests? ...Are you eating?”

“He’s not,” Roman answered.

“Let him speak, Roman.” Nicholas smiled at Brock, waiting for an answer.

Brock walked into his home and was sidelined by the sudden appearance of Roman’s father. He’d never officially met the parents. Seen them around, yeah, but never really introduced himself. It seemed kind of blasphemous not knowing them being that he knew their son _biblically_ , but then he had a hunch they were every bit the demon that Roman was and didn’t care much about that kind of thing. And besides, if he’d met the parents of everyone he’d had sex with...well it would take a very very long time. 

“O-oh I’m okay, sir…” He cleared his throat and nodded, trying to be polite even if he was sure everyone in this house was just as off as Roman. And really, how weird was it that this probable demon guy was being nice? Demons, man. The grey area confused him, but it was growing more and more apparent that things were more complicated than just good and evil these days.

“But um… thank ya.” He smiled at the man and looked over to Roman. “If this’s a bad time I really’cn go. No big deal, man.”

Nicholas looked back and forth between the boys, and then to Roman for a moment, as if he knew something. “I will tell you what - I’ll make one just in case you change your mind,” he said, before ducking back into the kitchen. He resumed his song as if he hadn’t missed a beat.

“It’s … Fine. It’s a fine time,” Roman replied, shaking his head at his dad’s behavior. He nodded toward the stairs and made his way over to them, starting to head up without really waiting to see if Brock would follow. It’d be easier to talk about demon kids away from the prying ears of well … Other demons. And also away from his dad’s singing and current grill infatuation, and his increasingly annoying little brother.

He opened the door to his room and let Brock in. “Sorry about him. He always want to grill in the winter, so mom bought him an indoor one and -- _Brock_ \-- I swear that’s _all he’s been doing_ for three days. Maybe I should thank you for coming and offering a distraction.” He groaned and flopped down on his bed, giving a lazy motion for Brock to sit wherever. 

“So, what’d you find?”

Brock offered the man a smile before listening to Roman’s response. He followed him up the stairs and listened to him complain about his family. Complaints that… to Brock, sounded nice. He wished that all he had to complain about was his dad being, well… a dad. For demons, they seemed completely mundane. Brock was actually a little bit jealous, if he was being totally honest.

“That’s not so bad, Rome…” He said in all sincerity. His fondest memories of his own father were of dodging flying beer bottles around the house. Those weren’t the best of times. In any case, he sat on the edge of the bed and shoved his hands back in his jacket pockets while he thought over everything he’d found out the last few weeks.

“Well I went back’n followed the blood trail from that kid…” He said, making a somewhat softened face at that. He knew how Roman felt about what he did. He tried moving past it quickly. 

“It disappeared halfway through the woods, but’t was real close’t the Accomack Creek trailer park. So I went ‘round and asked if anybody seen’t any kids that they din’t recognize. No luck wit’ that but what I did find was apparently a few people have moved out rather quickly. Ain’t packed’p or nothin’. That’s kinda weird, right?” He said with a nod. He had a feeling it was more than just them ‘moving,’ but people didn’t seem to care if someone disappeared from the trailer park. Seemed cruel, but on the flip side would be a perfect place for someone or something to pick people off. 

“I figure somethin’s either scared’em off or… y’know… eaten’em. In which case I’mma have a real conflict’f interest savin’ em but… I made ya a promise. I’ll try.” He nodded, looking over at Roman’s green eyes, offering a smile, then looking away again before he stared in them too long. 

“I was gon’ go down there soon, see if anything else strange’s happening. Jus’ wanted’t know if’n ya wanted to go. See if ya can pick up any weird vibes from’t.”

Roman smiled a little, rolling onto his stomach on the bed since he seemed a little incapable of sitting completely still at the moment. “I know. It’s a little cute, but I never said that,” he threatened, looking at Brock very seriously. This had to stay between them.

He listened as Brock recounted his explorations. Seemed like he’d been pretty busy investigating, which Roman figured was good, but he was a bit lost in his own thoughts the past week or so, so Roman couldn’t rightly say he’d noticed anything strange with the demon children one way or the other. He traced some of the lines on the comforter, idly, thoughtfully. “A trailer park is an ideal place for that stuff, I guess.” Stereotypically speaking, he guessed. But the kids didn’t seem very smart, just resourceful. Maybe stereotypes were all they had to work with.

At the mention of a promise, Roman looked up, catching Brock’s gaze for a moment, and despite himself, he returned the smile. It was sweet of him to try. Roman should try too. He _was_ trying.

“I can go. It’s possible people are just scattering like animals do before a disaster, but humans are usually … Kind of dense about that stuff.” He paused, glancing to Brock. “Mm, comparatively speaking, I mean. So if they’re picking it up, maybe these kids are worse off than I thought.” Roman still didn’t want the first course of action to be to destroy them, but he was now opening up to the possibility that they might have to.

Oh good. He was agreeing to go. This went better than Brock initially thought. He offered another smile and shifted his body toward Roman, reaching out and patting his shoulder for a moment before pulling his hand away again. 

“Thank ya. I’m glad ya’re back on board.” He said with a lopsided smile.

“Maybe they sensed’t. But I agree that people’r stupid. It’s more likely they saw somethin’. Though that part’a town is in the thick’f it in the woods, I’d imagine they’d have to have seen more’n some spooky kids over the years. Somethin’ must’ve gone down.” He thought out loud. He’d fought many things close to that trailer park. Werewolves, skinwalkers, cloven-footed beasts. How they could have been so dense for so many years and just now started picking up on something weird being afoot was strange to him. 

“Still donno who’s up to no good at that rock formation in the woods. Been checkin; up on that as well. Ain’t seen a soul out there.” Brock would catch them soon enough. For now he needed to focus on one mystery at a time. 

He sat silently for a few more moments, then inhaled a deep breath and turned to Roman once more. “Look. Much’s I hate’t admit’t…. you been a great help’t me lately. So thank ya.” He nodded a bit, unsure of what else to say. He thought he should also straight out apologize for last week, but he figured it was best to leave it alone unless Roman wanted to bring it back up. 

It felt weird to tense up at Brock’s touch where he never really had before, but he supposed that’s where they stood now. Their interaction would be business-oriented; they’d stick to talking about Brock’s hunts and nothing else. It was an adjustment, and Roman couldn’t decide if it’d be better to sever Brock completely or take what he could get. He felt pathetic over it, though, either way.

“They’re vicious and territorial, but they don’t want to be. Maybe someone got to close to their home, or they thought someone was a threat. It doesn’t take much to spook people. Just a few shadows that are out of place and a razor sharp smile.” Roman gave one of his signature little smiles, but it faded faster than usual.

“You’re welcome.” He pushed himself back up into a sitting position. “I guess just keep me posted on when you’re going and I’ll met you there.” See? He could do it. Curt, professional. Or whatever. This was _hard_. He probably wouldn’t last.

“Yeah well… either or, tis worth a look, right?” Brock nodded, noting Romans acknowledgement of his own little smile. A smile he honestly was curious about and wouldn’t mind seeing more of. But then the responses moved back to impersonal and business-like. Good? Isn’t that what Brock asked for?

“Okay well… I’ll uh… letcha know when I make my move.” He said, not sure what else to say. Conversation was done, right? He should get up and leave. Yet he didn’t. He sat there a few more moments and looked back over at the boy who was now sitting up next to him.

“I uh… don’ think I met your dad b’fore.” He said, making small talk because he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave just yet. “Have you demons always been so Brady-like?”

“Yeah, it is,” Roman said, perfectly aware that they were struggling for conversation that wasn’t pertaining to the topic of monster hunting. He didn’t really know how to change that though, or if he should. “Worth a look, I mean.”

He nodded. “Okay.” _Now_ it was almost painfully awkward. Should he ask Brock to leave? Should he have to? Why _wasn’t_ Brock leaving. Roman knew why, of course, a part of him, but the struggle here was quelling his urges to draw attention to or exploit these reasons. Brock was asking too much of him, he thought.

Roman looked at Brock, and he clearly had a lot on his mind. Was that really what love was? Denying yourself something you want for the happiness of the other person? How could Brock _or_ Adam ask that of each other? Roman didn’t get it, and yet, here he was, in a sense, doing the same thing wasn’t he? For whose sake.

“If you mean a happy family, then yes.” Things were better before his shitty brother was born, but details. “Mom is way too good for him, but he knows it. They’re happy. They indulge each other.” Roman shrugged.

Maybe it was awkward. No it was. He should leave. But at the same time he liked getting to know Roman like this. That in itself was strange. He chuckled a bit at the thought of Roman’s happy demon family and shook his head. He was supposed to be this holy evil fighter and yet these unholy… Uh… Creatures? They had a healthier family unit than he'd ever thought existed. It was charming in a way. 

“Sounds real nice.” He said, not a hint of sarcasm on his lips. He wondered if maybe he'd ever have something quite like that somewhere down the road. Brock couldn't help but want it the more he thought about it. The absence of a loving family in his childhood made him long for something better now that he was older.

“...So if’n ya guys are so normal an’ happy then why ya gotta go round killin bunnies or shit like that? You know ya can be a demon without bein a cliche…” He said simply, not sure what he was trying to say. Maybe he just wanted the best for the boy. For everyone really, but Roman was a special case, being a demon and all. 

He watched Brock’s expression. It was nice, but he decided not to elaborate. It felt a bit like rubbing it in the other boy’s face, which, while Roman was _not_ against usually, now wasn’t one of those desired times. He had many reasons to gloat, but he withheld just this once.

Roman laughed and shrugged. The ‘bunny fiasco’ seemed so long ago that he hardly remembered it until Brock brought it up. “You seemed to think I was a cliche, so I played along.” It _did_ satisfy some urges for him, too, but he knew who he was talking to. Some things, it was just better to keep to himself than confide in Brock about. For the most part, Roman was greatly composed of his mother’s demonic traits, but his father’s more simplistic demonic urges did run deep and they were prevalent enough that sometimes… Roman just wanted to tear something apart. His temper was all Bazarov. 

“But thanks for telling me the obvious, darling.” Roman grinned.

Brock gave a little laugh and nodded. “I did think ya were a cliche’. But’t be fair, I was still new’t all this. I din’t understand that good and evil weren’t so simple.” He looked over to Roman and studied his face for a moment. If Roman wanted, he truly could be a powerful force of evil. That beautiful face could convince anyone of anything. At least he inferred it from the effect the boy had on him alone. If Roman shared his urges with him, he might flinch, but he’d understand. He wouldn’t have looked up ways to kill his friends… and his own boyfriend, just in case, if he didn’t have urges of his own he needed to quiet down. Sometime the Redeemer screamed in his ear that he shouldn’t rest until all the supernatural beings in town were resting in pieces. He actively fought against it, because it seemed like everyone he cared about was connected in some way to the darkness. Brock could understand unspeakable urges, even if it technically meant they should be enemies.

“You’re so much more’n enigma than I gave ya credit for…” He looked over him again, biting his lip as he thought about it. Brock always loved a mystery. Unraveling the pieces to solve the puzzle. That was what kept him coming back, even when part of him knew it was the wrong thing to do. 

“Everyone has both in them. That’s an important distinction in my world,” Roman said, reaching out to poke Brock playfully in his side. He might’ve been softening the seriousness of his statement, but he meant it, and he fed off the inevitable cycle of someone giving in to one side more than the other. Like he should be compelling Brock to do, maybe, but instead he was trying to get him to save possessed children and stay loyal to Adam. But Adam … Roman had a slightly different perspective on him now, given their chat in the spirit world. He was another creature Brock should destroy, possibly one that Brock _would_ eventually destroy. And wouldn’t that feed Roman too? Maybe he didn’t need some lusty betrayal. He just wanted it.

“Oh well _thank you_ , Brock,” Roman said, lowly, and to make sure Brock heard him as he lowered his space, he leaned closer. “I do try.” He was close and he was far just as quickly, leaning back to rest his back against the wall.

“...Do you think you should leave?” _Before we get too comfortable_ was implied.

Brock took the playful poke to the side with a little smirk, giving Roman a little joking swat on the side of the arm himself It was nice to see him smile, to joke around with him when a year before his misunderstanding of the boy was so gross and overdone that he said the cruelest things. This side of him was pretty great. But then before he knew it, the boy was close again. And his heart started beating a little bit faster. He leaned in, his lips not far from Roman’s. Thankfully, Roman pulled away again. Brock cleared his throat and patted at his pants, pretending to dust it off as he was distracted. 

“...Yeah, you’re probably right…” He added, giving a little nod. Whatever was going on between the two clearly hadn’t gone away. Brock wasn’t sure he wanted it to, even if he didn’t want to give up Adam for anything. He turned and looked at Roman and shook his head.

“I’m sorry for bein’ so weird…” He said, thinking he really should get up to leave but instead just staring at the floor. This was weird. And new. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

Roman sighed and shrugged. “Just how it’s going to be, I guess. We both want to fuck each other and we can’t. It sucks.” This was a stupid conversation, Roman couldn’t help but think, but at least he was putting it into physical terms instead of ‘we both have some weird feelings for each other and have no idea what to do with them’. He wondered if Brock felt the same, but everything about the boy’s reactions lately suggested that he did.

“And you’re used to getting things you want, and so am I. At least in a sexual capacity.” Roman smirked, but it was playful.

“Is that all you think?” Brock turned his head and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, Brock wanted to give it to him. _Good_. But that wasn’t everything. And that was unusual.

“It’s not jus’ that. I… I like bein’ round ya. I smile ‘lot more when I am.” Brock looked to the floor, a little upset at putting it into words like he did and yet it didn’t make it any less true. He was absolutely in love with Adam. But part of him kind of wanted to be with Roman. Brock wanted to curse to the sky because it would seem that his own heart was too complicated for him to understand. He’d thought it would beat for only one person after the Lincoln and Logan nonsense resolved itself. Was it ignorant for him to think it was that simple?

“I… I like the way ya make me feel...” He whispered a bit. This was getting to be too revealing. He should go.

“It’s … Nice that I make you smile,” Roman said, but he sounded unsure if he believed that. It wasn’t that the idea wasn’t nice, but it was a foreign concept to enjoy making someone happy for the sake of it, and an equally foreign concept to hear it. “And I like it when you do.”

As much as he wanted to move closer and indulge this little moment of intimacy that seemed to be brewing between them, Roman instead brought his legs closer to himself, but he did grin. It was an admittedly goofy grin; Roman’s attempt to break up the tension of the moment. “It’s weird to say it makes me happy that you like it, considering what I _should_ be doing is ruining your life, gorgeous. But… It’s a good feeling. So I guess I like the way you make me feel too…”

Hearing the words come from the other boy just conflicted him. On the one hand, it made a little smile creep across his lips that he quietly tried to conceal by keeping his head down. It felt really nice to be able to talk like this with Roman. But on the other, he felt so damn guilty. He knew sooner rather than later he was going to have to make a choice. That he was going to have to cut Roman out if he wanted to be happy with Adam. And that Adam trusted him so much, but here Brock was letting himself feel things for someone else even if there was no real comparison between the two. This was just a shit show and was going to end in pain for everyone. 

But damned if it didn’t feel good in the moment.

“And I _should_ be trying to kill you just for bein’ a demon. But I don’t wanna. So I guess we’re both failin’ pretty terribly.” He laughed a bit, fidgeting in place as he looked over at Roman. His half smile had a little hint of sadness to it, it wouldn’t be hard to see in the moment.

“Y’know in the grand scheme of things, I’m probably more the bad guy here than you’ll ever be.” He gave a little shrug. “Adam and I are in love. I’d give anythin’ for him. But I can’t shake this… whatever this is… when I’m ‘round you. And that’s not fair for either’f you.”

This was complicated and stupid, but he supposed it was good that he was getting it out. 

“I’m uh… I’m sorry’n advance. For bein’ a jerk. Well bein’ a jerk in the past too. For last week as well. For… all’f it. I’m just a confused shithead right now.”

“Feels nice to fail once in a while, doesn’t it?” Roman mused, but then he laughed and shook his head. “I’m joking, it doesn’t. I don’t like to fail. But I’ll keep you as the exception.”

“In a way, yeah. That’s how I work, though, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” It was Roman’s nature, but Brock’s choice -- and yet, here they both were, trying their best to resist the very thing that made them who they were. Humans were kind of built that way, and Roman was choosing to be so very human right now.

Roman’s reaction was instinctual, this time, with no thought or concern that maybe he should maintain the distance he’d been so actively keeping between them. He moved closer and put a hand over Brock’s, desiring to be comforting which made him want to _gag_. How much longer until this sentimentality in him ran its course? Sooner rather than later, he hoped. But for now, he had a hand resting on one of Brock’s. “Calling yourself names isn’t going to fix it either.” Despite the contact, Roman rolled his eyes. “It’s both of our faults, stop trying to fall on your sword.”

Brock listened to him and nodded silently. This was all so odd, Brock wished he could channel his heartlessness from a year ago. But he couldn’t. He’d always thought Roman was special, even when he was being hateful and threatening to kill him. And now this came at a fucking terrible time, and yet he couldn’t help himself. And then a hand covered his own that rest on the bed. His eyes widened for a moment, head turning to look at their hands for a brief second. He should pull away. To him, sex maybe wasn’t so much a betrayal because he didn’t have to care for someone to get off with them. But little intimacies like this… they mattered. If Adam found out, he was surely to be crushed by it. This was not something that needed to be happening.

And yet, he found his fingers spreading so Roman could thread his own through them. He silently stared at their hands and saw how well they fit. In a way that was not dissimilar and yet completely different from Adam’s hand. This was the point in which he crossed the line. The kiss could have been an accident. This was him accepting something was happening. He felt like shit. But he also secretly wanted more of it. He tried to regain his composure and deny Roman this moment, because he knew it was wrong. And yet he couldn’t pull himself together long enough to pull away. So instead he just let his fingers tighten the grip.

“What’re we doin, hellspawn?” He asked quietly, still unsure of how this all happened. 

Roman drew in a breath when Brock didn’t actually pull away. It was a good question that Brock asked, and he glanced down at their hands, fingers interlocked, and he wasn’t sure he had an answer that was any sort of appropriate. His patience was waning, as was his resolve. 

“What we want to do?” The guess was said more innocently than he was feeling. The contact, the proximity -- Roman was kissing Brock before he even knew it; one biting, hungry kiss, lasting beats longer than he wanted it to, if it should’ve even lasted at all. When Roman forced himself back, which took ages of self control he didn’t even realize he could call upon, his breath was uneven and his gaze was predatory.

“You should leave,” he warned. “Before I don’t let you.”

Roman was kissing him. A deeper, harsher kiss than the innocent one they had in the Auto Shop. And yet, Brock couldn’t fight it. He opened his mouth and let his tongue inside, sliding it against his own, his hands gripping at Roman’s shirt as he pulled him closer. The kiss did last longer than Brock wanted, and yet not long enough. When Roman pulled away, a small breath escaped Brock’s lips, followed by a moment of sadness that the contact was broken, then another of realization that this kiss was no accident and he’d broken his promises to Adam. 

And that he wanted more. 

“I… y-yeah… I should.” He said with big, shocked eyes, thankful that Roman was no longer close enough to notice the growing desire in his pants. He pulled back and stood, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“I… I guess I’m leavin’ now. Uh I’ll uh… I’ll let you know when I go after these kids.” He said, backing away and yet strangely in no hurry to leave. He needed to get out now. He needed his feet to work. He only hoped Roman helped push him out the door. 

Roman took a moment of just ignoring Brock’s presence to collect himself. He shouldn’t have kissed, _he shouldn’t have done that_. Maybe he’d invite John over later and be mean to him, just to distract himself. Yeah, maybe…

His gaze shifted over to where Brock was standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. He was muttering something, but Roman didn’t hear him. He had to leave but he wasn’t leaving, and every moment he stood there made things harder to resist. Roman slid off the bed and eased right by Brock, taking the door knob and twisting it open to pull open the door. 

“I’ll walk you out, okay?” Okay.

“Y-yeah. Right.” Brock nodded, but he too was only half-listening. He had to tell Adam, right? This… this wasn’t right. He couldn’t keep this up, and honesty was the foundation of their relationship. It’s the whole reason they got together in the first place. But at the same time, he knew telling Adam would only speed up how soon he had to stop hanging around Roman. And selfishly, he wanted to see him more. Brock was such an idiotic dickhole. 

But then the door opened. Brock looked up into Roman’s pretty green eyes once more and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. So instead he just gave a little nod and walked out to the hallway, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the stairs. 

Roman didn’t say anything else, but he obviously had a lot to say. He made his way down the stairs in silence and guided Brock toward the door. His father no longer seemed to be in the kitchen, and in fact, the downstairs portion of the house had gone eerily silent since they were last there.

“Let me know about the kids,” he said, as some sort of initiation of a goodbye as he stopped at the front door.

Brock had a lot he wanted to say too, but it wouldn’t make a difference. It didn’t change the situation. It didn’t change the fact that he was now a shitty boyfriend. It didn’t change the fact that he was possibly leading Roman on with the hope for more when he wasn’t sure what that even meant. All he could do was walk in silence. Awkward silence. Maybe he shouldn’t have come over. 

But at the same time, he was always glad to have gotten something bothering him off his chest. He wasn’t so sure how well it helped when he just replaced one stressor with another though. 

They stopped at the door. Roman said something about the kids. Brock just stared at him for a moment, looking at his lips and the way they moved before chastising himself in his own mind. He brushed his blond hair back before tightening down his knit hat once more, giving the other boy a half-smile.

“I will, darlin.” He said, trying to maintain a respectable distance from him even though he subconsciously moved just a step closer. 

“Uh… I’ll uh… I’ll seeya round?” He posed it more like a hopeful question rather than a statement. 

_What the fuck was he still doing here?!_

Roman groaned. “Oh my _god_ , Brock, are you _trying_ to make me kiss you again?” It was spoken more like a very sincere threat. Or another warning. Maybe a slight plea.

He didn’t know why, but that made him laugh a bit. This whole situation was fucked, but he might as well find some humor to it. As for his question… maybe? Brock had a habit of doing very bad, very terrible things all for the sake of curiosity. He just gave a little half smile and stood there for a moment longer, considering it. But then he stepped back and gave Roman a quiet little salute with two fingers from his forehead before turning and shoving his hands into his pockets. He stood for another moment before taking his first step off Roman’s porch, looking back momentarily, then shaking his head.

He really shouldn’t, but Brock knew even if he walked away now, he’d be back. It was only a matter of time now.


	6. The Scorpion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding a little luck on their murder mystery, Brock and Roman cross a line they can't come back from.

Tonight had been… productive. Brock had returned to the trailer park with Roman in tow, this time to see if they could get a glimpse at anything weird or off putting. Some of the people that remained that were willing to talk all had the same thing to say, though he wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with what they were looking for. As it turned out, Melinda Weathers had been acting strangely since the death of her boy. Up at strange hours of the night, wailing in the woods. Strange noises coming from inside the trailer. Multiple voices, even though now she lived alone. Most of the neighbors thought she’d just gone crazy. It was a fair point, she might have. But when Brock knocked, they were just met with hostility. She knew who Brock was, her boy came home many times with a shiner on his face from him. Brock tried to be a caring individual and offer his condolences and even pressed about the strange noises, but she told them to ‘Get the hell off my lawn before I call the cops.’ And yet, before she closed the cracked door he could have sworn he saw something run behind her. Something small. _Hooded_.

In any case, today was apparently not the day this was going to happen. He’d have to sneak in if he was going to get the answers he wanted, and she was already on high alert. So he decided it would be best if they called it a night. 

“C’mon, hellspawn. I’ll walk ya home.” He said, not giving Roman time to protest. It was sincere. For the most part of the night, the two had been pretending not to acknowledge the deep kiss they shared not too long ago in Roman’s room. Brock had been trying to push it away from his mind and yet the harder he fought it, the more he thought about it. Roman’s lips were surprisingly softer than the last time, maybe because his memories of him from the year prior were tarnished with his memories of a demon he would be destined to kill, when now he wasn’t so sure. And of course the guilt of hiding these thoughts from Adam weighed down heavily on him. So why was it that anymore these days, he wanted to see Roman just to see him, not necessarily due to their current business partnership?

“Uh… thanks for comin’ out. I was hopin’ we’d get more out’f it but…” He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Mrs. Weather’s is definitely hidin’ somethin. I think she’s the key to all this.” 

They walked at a slow pace, and Roman stayed quiet for most of the time. Brock hadn’t given him time to protest, even if he’d been about to, but Roman wasn’t going to fight Brock’s company too much. It’d been a strange night full of suspicious behavior; his own family of demons was so different from these others they’d been encountering lately that Roman had to shake his head at all the shady happenings. So secretive.

“Mm, swing and a miss.” Roman shrugged. They were definitely there, though, Roman had felt them. It was strange to have such a connection with them, but he wasn’t eager to gaze about them again because of this apparent tie.

“But you’re welcome, honey.” He smiled. “Thanks for walking me home and making sure no one tries to kill me.”  
“Yeah well, it’s my job.” Brock gave a little shrug as if he actually believed that was the only reason he was walking the boy home. But truth was he just liked being around him. Fuck he even liked being around him last year when he did nothing but insult him. Something about his weirdness, his otherworldly charm and his mystery. It was the Redeemers curse to always go after something they didn’t understand. Maybe it was because all Redeemers inherently had a death wish and they just aimlessly followed one mystery after another until it eventually killed them, but Brock always seemed to pull at the little threads until there was nothing else to solve. It was his nature, he couldn’t help it. 

He shoved his hands in his pocket and blew out a short breath. The air was chilly enough now that the sun had gone down that he could see his breath. Weird for O’Cock, but winter was winter. He walked quietly, not sure of what to say. Not sure if he should say _anything_ really. He could walk away from it all now, just call the two kisses an accident that never were supposed to happen and leave. And yet… he couldn’t. 

“Well, we’re close’t least. Won’t be too much longer’n we’cn put this thing to bed.” He nodded, attempting to make some small talk. It had to be strange for Roman that Brock was dragging him out at night for these hunts. It wasn’t _normal_ for anyone really, but Brock was used to it. He was just happy to have company. He hadn’t had a buddy along since he and Logan fell out, and while he was always worried that involving someone else would get them hurt, he was still thankful to have someone to talk to. He’d bring Adam along but… he didn’t want to risk him getting hurt. And Roman knew enough about demons to be helpful in this particular case.

“I’m sure ya gettin’ tired’f me draggin’ ya out to these crazy places.”

“I suppose it is. Kind of.” Roman cast a sly smile toward Brock, since they both knew Brock wasn’t really supposed to be protecting someone like Roman. It was bullshit, really. If Roman died, Brock’s life and the whole town’s life might be a little easier. Well, after the fallout of his death, anyway. _Protecting him_. Roman wasn’t able to bite back a small laugh like he wanted.

“Good, you can keep me warm then, too.” He slid closer and hooked arms with Brock, content to simply enjoy the moment of contact for whatever it was. Warmth? Companionship? ...Friendship? Something more. It was something more.

“Agreed. I was thinking maybe I should go back alone. Without the big scary hunter. See if I can get them to speak with me more.” Truthfully, while he was running the idea by Brock, it was hardly something he intended to ask permission for. If Roman wanted to help these kids and not hurt them, he had to put in the work for other solutions or Brock would be forced to do his job.

“It’s the only time we spend together, so I’m fine with it.” Roman shrugged, paused, and then recoiled a little at the admittance. So much so that he even drew away again physically, unhooking their arms and instead sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. He sounding desperate and disgusting, didn’t he? When would this pass.

Brock’s jaw clenched a bit, but not in an annoyed manner. In an ‘I don’t want to openly smile’ kind of way. But he still (reluctantly) welcomed the arm hooked in his own. It was a little strange that he was somewhat okay with it. He could lie and tell himself that it meant nothing, that he was just humoring the boy. But of course he was allowing it because it felt good himself. 

“I uh… I dunno, hellspawn. I mean… talking is one thing, but I don’ know’f they gon’ hurt ya or not and…” He stopped before he said anything embarrassing. 

“Just think bout it a lil bit before ya go off on your own.” He gave a little grunt and a nod. But the conversation soon went on thankfully so he didn’t waste much more on words he didn’t say. But he just gave Roman an odd look, then gave a little laugh at his statement.

“Ya count this’s spendin’ time t’gether?” He smirked, shaking his head and running a hand through his blond hair. “Nah. This’s a job. My job. Spendin’ time t’gether would be more like watchin’ a movie or gazin’ at the stars’r something…” He nodded thoughtfully as they walked along. He was just doing his job, Roman was helping. Once this case was over he’d have no more reason to speak to Roman outside of school and it was better that way.

So why was it that Brock was dragging it out? Maybe because he did count it as spending time together in a way. Maybe because this new, helpful side of Roman he’d found that was totally opposite from the spoiled demon kid he thought he knew was intriguing, even if it was fake. But honestly, the little splash of danger of Roman being a creature of the unknown helped. 

“I'll let my dad know,” Roman replied, vaguely. Well, it was likely a bit vague for Brock, but it wasn't so much for Roman. If he went missing, Roman had some amount of faith his dad would find him. Through violent means if necessary. “And I'll be fine anyway. I don't think they'll hurt me unless they feel threatened. I'll level with them.”

“Of _course_ I do, Brock. It's not as if you've given me much choice now.” Roman actually looked … hurt? Bothered? “Don’t be an asshole and list all the things we're not doing together.”

Oh good, his house was coming into view. 

Brock stopped and gave Roman a little side eye, eyebrow raising as he tilted his head toward him. Roman confused him. A lot. He was such an asshole some days. But it seemed like when he got him alone, he let his more endearing qualities show. His vulnerability. And yet Brock still could never get a good read on whether it was an act or if it was true. It was probably the mystery that kept him interested. 

“Ya act like we goin’ out. Don’t be so sour.” He said, attempting to diffuse a situation that would find him getting close to the boy again. But then as he always did, he allowed his curious nature to get the best of him. 

Hands in his jacket pockets, he looked over and shrugged and responded in a low voice. “...why, ya wanna gaze at the stars wit’ me?” He said, half joking, half serious.

Roman waved the assertion away with his hand, as if the motion could physically close the verbal door Brock was nudging open. “It doesn't matter, does it?” The answer may as well have been a yes, though, for all that Roman wasn't denying it. If Roman didn't want to do something, everyone would know it. Now he couldn't bring himself to protest against such a small question? Even Roman knew he was being transparent, but he let it go. It did matter. To him, at least. 

He bit his lip and seemed content to let things sink back into awkward silence. It was easy when they were hunting demon kids, but now that it was just them, there was an obvious elephant in the room that they both seemed content to ignore. 

Brock could feel it too. That giant elephant. Pink with tassels. Hard to ignore. But at the same time he heard it in his voice. The hurt, but the eagerness to actually spend time with him. The _yes_. And if there was anything Brock craved more than sex or drugs or alcohol, it was someone’s attention. Someone _wanting_ to be near him. It made him feel not so less than as he used to. So he pursed his lips and looked down at the ground, kicking at the dirt as they walked.

“...night’s still young. Sky’s somewhat clear.” He said, looking over at the other boy with his crooked smile. 

“I s’pose if’n ya get a blanket and got a way’t climb up on that roof’a yours, I could be convinced to stay and stare at the sky for a while.” God Brock, this was stupidly intimate of a thing to be suggesting. But then they were friends now. Friends could do that stuff. Right? Right.

Roman tried not to look too happy (or too pleased), but he wasn’t sure he really passed off either very convincingly. Honestly, he didn’t care in that moment about keep up appearances that were ~too cool~, so what was supposed to be a casual smile ended up spreading into a grin. “I know a way.” It wouldn’t be his first time climbing out onto the roof.

He unlocked the door to his house with ease and let them both inside. The house was dead silent, almost creepily so even by the standards of a normal empty house. Roman didn’t bother to elaborate as to where his family was. Either he didn’t know, or he didn’t think it mattered. They’d said they were going (somewhere) and Roman wasn’t listening, but rejected going with them in favor of joining Brock on their hunt.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the stairs that once again lead them up to his room, but Roman didn’t linger there, he was strictly after a blanket and then on a mission toward the patio of his parents’ room. “Ta-da!” he started, pointing to a pipe on the side of the house. It ran close to the railing of the patio, and bridge the gap of a few short ‘steps’ to the roof.

Brock followed into the house. It was a little quieter than before. Roman’s surprisingly pleasant family didn’t seem to be around. Part of him felt like maybe that was bad news, because a lack of parents around never led to anything good. And yet, he followed still. A part of him still wanted to be around Roman despite all his reservations. 

He followed to his room, and then to his parent’s room where Roman pointed out the pipe. Brock smirked and moved toward it, making short work of the climb, then leaning over the edge of the roof and offering a hand.

“Careful, hellspawn. If’n ya fall and break somethin’ this will be real awkward.” He chuckled, helping him to the roof. Once they were there, he sat down and looked up at the sky. It wasn’t cloudy out tonight, and the slight chill of the winter air somehow made the sky seem a little clearer. 

“I don’t often get a chance’t relax and do things like this. This’s nice.” He gave a nod, laying back on his folded arms as he studied the formations in the sky. 

“It’ll be fine if you let me devour a bit of your flesh,” Roman jokes, watching Brock’s face to see if he’d buy into it. There was a time when he was certain the human would’ve, but now? He wasn’t sure. Maybe Brock had learned more about him in the past few weeks. He hoped so. “I’ll heal right up.” Of course, between the two of them, Brock was the one with the instantaneous healing, not Roman.

Roman joined Brock in sitting, and then eventually laying, and he was quiet for a few long moments in his contentment to just look up at the sky and enjoy the cool air that was nipping at his lips and cheeks.

“Yeah, it is -- Hey look, that cloud looks like a unicorn.”

At Roman’s response, Brock quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” He asked curiously. He supposed that would make sense. He’d heard of creatures that healed after eating flesh. That Jeepers Creepers movie wasn’t _entirely_ fictional. 

“I mean, I suppose I’d be the only guy that’cd help ya since I regenerate an’all.” Of course he didn’t elaborate at what that insinuation meant, but Roman knew how he healed. So instead he just let the subject change when they laid down on the roof.

He looked over at the boy when he mentioned something about a cloud and then just let go a little chuckle. 

“Nah, hellspawn. Ya doin’t all wrong. We lookin’ at stars.” He smirked. He scooted over closer to him and pointed up to a formation of stars in the sky, body sliding under the blanket next to Roman. 

“See that? It’s Orion’s belt.” He started pointing out his favorite constellation. “If’n ya connect the dots, it looks like a guy wit’ a bow’n arrow. It was based’n the legend of Orion the hunter from Greek myth. He was like… son of Poseidon and a princess and was a badass but… was also kind’f a drunken fuck up. But he eventually got so good’t bein’ a hunter that Mother Earth herself sent a fuck-all giant scorpion down specially made’t kill him. Which’t did. But the other gods thought he was heroic enough to have a place forever in tha heavens or somethin, so they cast him into the sky to live forever as a constellation.” It was when Brock talked about history and mythology that people could see a different side come out of him. A more intelligent side. He truly loved learning about history and myth, because not only was it his job but it just interested him. 

“I guess’ts my favorite constellation cuz I can relate.” He said with a little nod. 

“Oh yeah, we did say stars, didn't we?” Roman laughed lowly, mostly to himself and he didn't speak until Brock moved closer to him to show him exactly what they were supposed to be looking at as opposed to what he had been.

His gaze followed Brock’s hands out to the sky, taking note of the stars he was talking about. Roman could kind of see what he was describing, but his eyes didn't stay up toward the sky for long before they made their way back to Brock, watching him as he told the story. The story was interesting, but not quite as interesting as the boy telling it. Brock was different in moments like these, where he talked about mythology and stuff that interested him instead of just flirting or keeping things business like. 

At long last, Roman let his usual sly little smile sneak out, and teasingly said, “... You're kind of a dork.” He sounded nothing less than charmed, however.

”And this one right here…” Brock continued on, not really paying attention to the boy’s gazing eyes, instead using his pinky to draw a line in the shape of a J in Roman’s line of sight.

“...is Scorpius, the big ass Scorpion. Zeus threw him’n the sky as like… a trophy’r somethin for Orion.” He explained, then let go a small almost nerdy chuckle, then looked over at Roman finally.

“It looks nothin’ like a scorpion. Ya jus’ gotta humor it and use ya imagination.” He laughed a little more, blue eyes catching Roman’s pretty greens. 

“I know… It’s a secret. Don’t tell no one.” He smiled and bit his lip before turning back to the night sky just in time to see a little streak skip across the sky.

“Hey look. Shootin’ star.” He nodded. “Ya gotta make a wish’r somethin, right?”

“So what’s going to be your scorpion then, Orion?” Roman asked, but there was a suggestive lilt in his voice the purposely sought to draw attention to the fact that he was, in some ways, Brock’s opposition. Roman thought of them as similar in many ways, but he’d play up the good vs. evil trope if it meant Brock would be pulled in a little more by the danger of it.

He tossed a tiny little smile over Brock’s way and then his gaze drifted back out to the sky where Brock was pointing. He didn’t see what the other boy was talking about at all, but it was nice to hear the story anyway. “Sure gorgeous, I’ll humor you.” Roman smirked.

“And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Roman considered the star for a long moment, and then smiled. “Hmmmm, okay. I made one.”

There was an interesting question if he’d ever heard one. His scorpion. His _end_. What--or even possibly _who_ would do him in? Probably Zebel if he had to guess. She’d already warned him before she wasn’t done with him. Maybe Adam’s family _would_ break the pact and do him in just because of all the thoughts he’d planted into their son’s head? Or maybe…

“Why? You tryna’ apply for tha position?” He chuckled, mostly joking though a small part of him was serious. He’d known Roman’s darkness was bigger than he let on. He figured one day the two would have to come to blows. And that made him… kind of sad to be honest. He enjoyed Roman. 

Brock smiled, rare dimples showing in his cheeks under the moonlight as he listened to Roman’s offhanded compliments. 

“Good. If’n people thought I was smarter’n I look I wouldn’t get ‘way with near as much.” He smirked, then looked back over at the boy.

“I can’t ask since ya wan’t to come true. But I hope it was a good one, hellspawn.”

Roman laughed and leaned closer, pushing the limits, and lowered his voice. “Maybe,” he teased, and then leaned away. He wasn’t looking to _kill_ Brock, but Roman couldn’t help but be aware that in a way, he did act like a venom for the other boy.

“Of course you’d get away with it, sunshine. All you’d have to do is smile and show those dimples of yours.” He smiled as he spoke, and with little warning leaned back to be close to Brock, but this time in a less suggestive gesture. Where as before he’d been deliberately attempting to tease Brock, right now Roman only rested against him, head very nearly laying on the other boy’s shoulder.

“It was a good one,” he promised. “And it will definitely come true.”

Brock chuckled and rolled his eyes, shaking his head but with a smile as he looked back up to the night sky. Roman was probably one of the only people in school that could charm _Brock_ in such a manner, but here he was, giggling on the inside despite knowing what Roman was and vaguely what he was trying to accomplish. In the long run anyway, for now he ‘d been extremely helpful. And on his mind more than he needed to be. And the little husky tone Roman temporarily took with his voice did cause a tingle down below, as much as he would try to ignore it. 

“Not _everyone_ is charmed by me, devil boy.” He shook his head. Of course the handful of people he could think of that didn’t fall for his charms were people that had previously and were angry about it. And they were also dead now. So…

The other boy shifted. Somehow Brock found his arm around his shoulder as his head laid back near to it. Fuck it. He just allowed the somewhat cuddle to happen. He’d laid this way with Lincoln before a long time ago, but that was when they both secretly pined for each other so… maybe that wasn’t the greatest example of laying this way with friends. 

“How d’ya know ya gon’ get it?” He asked curiously, eyebrow piquing at the response. 

“Not everyone is worth your time,” Roman assured him with a deep exhale, like he was for the most part bored with people. It was dramatics, though. The last thing humans were to Roman was boring. “So who cares if they're charmed or not.”

Roman shrugged. “I get what I want.”

He shivered a little. “We picked a dumb time to do this.”

Brock just scoffed and yet again rolled his eyes. Roman was such a bastard and full of himself. He was just like… well… Brock. But then the boy shivered, despite having a blanket on them and Brock’s arm around him. He pursed his lips and gave a little huff, then looked at him once more.

“It’s not that cold.” He said, but then with a sigh, he pulled Roman up against him, his full body pressed against his own. 

“Besides, chilly nights’r the best time to look’t the sky. Look, ya can see Mars.” He chuckled, pointing to the sky at a very faint reddish dot. He turned back and offered a little smile, though Roman’s face was closer now. To keep him warm and all. 

“Weren’t aware that big bad demons got cold anyway.”

“Of course we can,” Roman said, rolling his eyes with faux-exasperation as he settled in close to Brock. “Mm, there’s the warmth I was looking for,” he said, mumbling into the blankets. “And honestly, darling, do I really strike you as big and bad and threatening?” Roman gave one of his best demonic smiles, and only when he turned to do so did he notice exactly how close their faces were.

Roman fell silent and his smile faded and he just caught Brock’s gaze and held it tight. A few long, never-ending moments passed and then he said very lowly, “I want to kiss you again.”

Brock stared him down as the boy’s fangs made such a quick appearance that if he were a normal boy, Brock would have assumed he’d imagined it. But he knew better. He knew what Roman was. And just as he wasn’t normal, the glimpse into the creature Roman was didn’t scare him. It only made him curious for more. 

“Well when ya do shit like that you make it hard to argue ya innocence.” He said sarcastically. But then things got silent. They locked eyes. The boy spoke and all Brock could do was swallow.

“We shouldn’t…” He said with his words, but his lips were doing the opposite. 

“...but I still want to...” He leaned in, nose touching Roman’s, his breath hot against Roman’s lips.

“You make me feel so confused, hellspawn…” He said with a whisper before pressing a kiss against his lips, hand coming up and resting on the side of his face. 

Roman thought about leaning away and denying Brock the moment. Denying them both that much desired kiss, but he was also getting a little short on his rope of denying himself things he wanted. It was nice being good for a while, but it wasn’t meant to last. And if Brock was going to kiss him, Roman was going to kiss back. Bitingly so.

“You’re not confused right now,” he said once they temporarily parted. “Not half as confused as you want to be.”

Roman was a little right. Brock wasn’t so confused in this moment. In this moment nobody else existed but the two of them. Even though that frame of mind was going to come back and bite him in the ass spectacularly later, right now he wanted what he wanted. The Redeemer in him had gotten too strong, his need to know the touch of someone else, his curiosity, his everything, had reached a peak, and now the electricity between the two of them was too much to turn off. 

“I need’t stop…” He said, but his lips pressed another kiss to Roman and his hand ventured up underneath his shirt. 

“I need to stop but I can’t… I like you… I want you… I shouldn’t but I do...” He admitted out loud, even though it caused a pain in his heart. He couldn’t deny his weird but still present feelings for the boy. This was the last straw. The moment he knew was going to change everything. But somehow that still stopped nothing. Before he knew it, they were undressing. They were climbing back into his bedroom. They were wrapped up in each other’s naked forms for the first time in over a year. Tender at first. Then not so tender. And tender again. Multiple times. Addictively so. He couldn’t get enough of the boy even though he knew it was wrong. If his old world was over the least he could do was enjoy it. When all was finished, Brock’s scratches and bitemarks had all but healed. He laid in the bed with Roman in his arms, resting the demon’s head on his chest while he just stared at the ceiling. He fucked up. This was bad. He was going to feel it in the morning, but for now he was still coming down from everything. He just laid in silence while his strong hand offered a comforting caress to Roman’s shoulder. He’d have to think about how complicated things were now and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. But he would have to tell Adam either way. 

Roman wouldn’t heal as quickly, but that was fine for him. It was a way to remember things by.

But this… This resting against Brock. The content, yet tense silence. The fact that Brock was still there. All of it was odd. They’d never done this before. The sex, yes? Plenty of times, but even that was different for them, he thought. Roman was trying _not_ to think about implications or anything at all, really, but his mind was only left to wander in the silence.

So he broke it. “...This is new for us.” There was a moment’s pause before he realized Brock might not know exactly what he meant, so he lifted his hand to poke the other boy’s chest as if to indicate the whole … Roman laying his head on Brock’s chest thing. That was definitely new.

“A lot is new ‘tween us.” Brock responded shortly after. Which was the truth. Last year, Brock would insult him, humiliate him, and when they would have sex, he wouldn’t stick around and wouldn’t treat him with any kind of respect. But now he did. Now he let the other boy do what he wanted, gave him the reigns a few times throughout the night. The feelings changed the way he treated him, and it made him regret being such a gross asshole to him before when all Roman seemed to want was to be close to him, even if it meant taking the abuse that came along with it. 

But as nice as this all was, how Roman’s weight felt against his body, how sweet his kisses were… it still did nothing to quell the war in his heart right now. It was hard to hide the worry in his face. But he was always nothing but blunt. 

“You know this means things’re bout to go’t shit, right?” He let out a breath and shook his head. Right now his feelings were a little more numb than they’d be in the morning, but truthfully he hadn’t gotten past the shock yet. “This was nice. _Really_ nice but… it was probably a mistake for both’f us.”

Brock immediately started voicing thoughts they both were having, but Roman didn't want to hear them right now even if he'd been the one to open the line of conversation. 

“Shh,” he leaned up, hushing Brock with his lips. It was a gentle kiss, unlike the majority of their previous kisses of the evening. Gentle and brief. “That's tomorrow, and I've got you for approximately…” Roman sat up and took a peek at the clock before settling back down to rest on Brock’s chest. “Forty-five more minutes.”

Something about the boy calmed him. He knew everything was going to fall apart, but in this moment, he was lost in Roman’s pretty eyes. He savored the kiss, heart hurting a little more as the betrayal deepened. Because he couldn’t get enough of Roman, and likely wouldn’t be able to have enough after everything went to shit. 

“Ya kickin me out, then?” He calmed himself by way of humor and gave a little lighthearted chuckle. “Brutal.” He said in jest. He rubbed the boy’s muscular shoulder once more and brought his free hand to the side of his face. He would panic tomorrow, but for now he would just enjoy this brief moment of peace the both of them had. 

“No,” Roman said with a sad smile between kisses. “But you'll still leave.”

Brock looked over the boy for a moment and saw the heartbreak in his eyes. He was right. Brock was going to leave, and he might not look back because of all the wreckage this was going to cause. But he still cared for the boy in his own way. So he leaned in and kissed him one more time and pressed their foreheads together.

“Tell you what… I’ll wait until you fall asleep. You have me until then.” He said, holding him to his chest again. He would keep his promise, and then some being that he would fall asleep himself and then wake up at 4 am and sneak out of Roman’s window in a panic. But the least he could do for now is hold the boy until he slept.


	7. Don't Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock is feeling guilty after their last encounter, so the two decide to part ways.

It had been a few weeks since Brock had talked to Roman. They both fucked up. Brock moreso than Roman. Because Brock was in the relationship. Brock knew better. And yet Brock gave in to his attraction and let everything implode. But after he gave in to passion, he realized how much it hurt not having Adam around, so as much as it made him feel like an absolute jerk, he knew he had to cut Roman out. Before his feelings caught up again. Before he made another mistake. 

And yet despite all this, they left behind a mission. Things had grown quiet with the kids. Nobody else had gone missing. He figured maybe he should leave it alone, but there were many supernaturals in town that _hadn't_ killed before, so he knew if there was a group of wildcards around he would need to keep a close watch on them. Just in case. Really the only reason they were alive was because he promised Roman... there it was again. In any case, he was going to check in and make sure they weren't causing harm. 

He crossed through the woods on his normal route. He packed light, just his dagger in his pocket. He wasn't anticipating a rumble but he was never not prepared. And just before he reached the park, he saw a movement through the trees. A familiar shuffle, maybe looking a bit more down than he used to. Again, Brock's fault. But still, at this moment he couldn't contain the anger he felt. Was he stupid? Brock specifically told Roman to tell him when he was coming out here because he could get hurt and that would just kill Brock…

He stepped out of the trees into his line of sight, not hiding the look of disappointment on his face. 

"I told ya't leave this't me." He said with a clenched jaw, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was around. 

"Never one't listen, are ya?"

Roman was determined just to finish this on his own, but instead he’d ended up sitting with the eldest of the children and dumping all his relationship problems on him earlier in the week. The kid, strangely enough, was not a bad listener, but he did have the oh-so-annoying point that sooner or later, Brock would kill Roman just like Brock was going to kill them. Roman tried to convince them otherwise; Brock had agreed to spare them so long as they kept to themselves. But it was the nature of the thing. Both demon children knew that.

Now, Roman was back again, just to check on things. He wore he could handle himself if things turned sour. Alpha demon, or some nonsense. But then he heard Brock’s voice and he tensed up and considered just continuing to walk like he hadn’t heard anything at all. You know, kinda like what Brock was doing by avoiding him at school or acting like he didn’t exist anymore. He wondered how that would taste, but the pettiness subsided just long enough for Roman to push his hoodie down and cast a sidelong glance at the human.

“Statistically, I’ve had _far_ better luck with them than you have,” he pointed out.

“ _Statistically_ you’re squishier than me.” Brock retorted quickly. It was true, despite sounding like childish playground banter. And well… he supposed he didn’t know the true extent of Roman’s power. He clenched his jaw and shifted where he stood, crossing his arms as he looked back at the direction of the trailer where they were likely hiding. 

“I’m ‘sumin they ain’t on no murderous rampage for now since ya walkin and talkin all upright.” He said, trying to avoid eye contact. Because Roman, despite being a shit starter and a possible evil creature, had some of the most lovely, soulful eyes that lit up like lanterns when he was saying something charismatic. One of the many similarities he had to Adam that got him into trouble in the first place. 

“If’m bein’ totally honest it’s not the kids I’m worried bout. It’s that woman. She doesn’t scream mental stability to me.” He gave another nod, again avoiding a look. 

“Just be more careful’s all.”

“Guess not, no,” Roman replied shortly to Brock’s observation. As far as he could tell, they'd been doing okay. But he wasn't there mother and Roman was far from willing to come check on them daily. Now, it was just some sort of test of wills to see if he could keep them alive. 

Roman listened to his words and glanced back toward the trailer the kids supposedly stayed in, then back to Brock. He too was avoiding eye contact for the most part. 

“Yeah, okay. I will.” Roman moved to walk around him and continue on. What else was there to say? A lot, actually. Roman had a lot to say, the words burned like venom on the edges of his tongue and lips. But he held back. There wasn't a point. 

Brock could feel the thickness in the air between them. Before, the tension was sexual and romantic, made all the more urgent by the forbidden nature of their tryst. Now the tension was hollow and painful, with a little crackle of longing here and there. Brock was very intentionally trying to ignore that last part, but try as he might, he still cared about Roman. He _loved_ Adam and he knew if things were ever going to be right between them again, he’d have to sacrifice Roman for it. It was a price he was willing to pay, even if it didn’t feel particularly good to do it. And yet he still felt the need to say… something. Anything. It just didn’t feel right to let Roman walk away when he had that pained look in his eye. 

“I’m sure you got more’t say that’cha just keepin’t yourself.” He said as he let his eyes follow the other boy as he tried to pass. He gave a little shrug and sat on a downed tree off the side of the path and looked up at him. 

“I’cn take it. I been at the top of the leaderboard for the ‘Biggest Asshole in O’cock’ contest for a few weeks now.”

Roman paused. He should keeping going, but instead the words drew out of him some sort of half bitter laugh. “I'm glad one of us can take it, then. Because all this feels the same as before. You get off with me and then go on your way.”

It wasn't exactly like before. He knew it, rationally he knew it. And Roman used Brock too - until he guessed it wasn't using anymore? Fuck this. But he still felt used, and the implication of such thoughts was there even if he didn't voice it. Wouldn't voice it. Roman felt weak and pathetic even thinking such thoughts, let alone saying them out loud. But he'd opened his feelings up to Brock and Brock knew how he felt -- Roman was sated by the destruction he'd help bring to the relationship, and that felt nice, but he couldn't help but wonder if the pain was worth it sometimes. Why did he have to get shut out? 

“This sucks, Brock. And don't say you're sorry. Say anything but that, because you're not really.”

“Except’ts not like before. I didn’t give a shit how you felt before. Now I…” Brock took a breath and looked down at his feet. He needed to stop that thought from coming out because he knew the hard decisions had to be made, and he’d made it in the back of his mind already. He was going to get Adam back. It just sucked that it came at the expense of someone else he felt something for. 

“It don’t matter no more anyway.” He said with a little shrug. Was he sad they had to cut whatever they had between them short? Well he couldn’t lie, he was a little. He would wonder a little what could have been. But then what _could_ be was not worth sacrificing the good thing he knew he could already have if he just worked a little harder for it. 

“Okay. I won’t. Even’f you’re wrong bout it.” He kicked his feet in the dirt and looked back up at the night sky. 

“I didn’t mean for anyone’t get hurt an’ I’m just a stupid person. Ya may be the demon here, but I’m the one that’s truly wrong’n all this. I get that.”

Roman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, anger faltering just enough that it only served to make him _more_ angry when he regained his composure. He would not give Brock this. He would _not_ feel bad for him.

“No, it doesn’t matter,” he said coldly, and then his chill relented just a bit. Just enough for him to say, “Don’t let him hide you again,” in a smaller voice.


	8. Five Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks after their last encounter, Brock hears tell of similar murders in Charleston, South Carolina. He enlists in Roman's help once more.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman grumbled at the random Russian being slung up the hallway toward his room by his father. He kicked his door shut and didn’t bother turning on the light, just immediately started unbuttoning his shirt and grumbling his various grievances in about three different languages about his extra shitty day. Practice was rough, so he’d played rough. For every failure Diaz made, there was Roman to tackle him down hard, practically imprinting his body into the ground with how hard he had in the last moment.

“Fucking bullshit practice,” he kicked his shoes off, and was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt when he caught a familiar scent. Roman’s face, already fixed with a frown, only grimaced and ground out a, “What do you want, Brock?”

They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and that was on purpose.  Brock never used to be the person who felt things, but he ended up that way.  He fell in love with Adam Izel, but he always knew underneath he was a ticking time bomb.  He wasn’t good for him. And then Roman, who for some reason, despite how rude Brock was to him, kept pushing.  And Brock was just curious enough to push back, until he crossed the line and couldn’t go back. Maybe it was better this way, because the future he had with Adam was grim at best, and would only be painful for both of them.  It just wasn’t realistic.

Then there was the small part of him that wanted to blame Roman for it.  But honestly… he didn’t. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t still take it out on him.

Still in all that time they hadn’t seen each other, Brock had become more reclusive.  He hadn’t reached out to anyone for ‘help’ healing after his fights, demonic or otherwise, even though people like Maja offered.  Because of this, Roman could probably make out in the dark a few scars on his face. One on his upper lip. One above his eyebrow.  A few peeking up over the v of his cutoff hoodie. It hardened him in a way that matched his stony expression. At the end of the day Roman was a demon, and he wouldn’t forget it.  

“Long time no see, Hellspawn.” He said, leaning back on the dresser he perched on before throwing a newspaper on his bed.  It had an article circled in highlighter.  **MYSTERIOUS ATTACKS LEAVE FIVE DEAD.** It would detail attacks very similar to Rosie Wilkins’ a few states over, with eyewitnesses stating they saw pale teenagers in hoods leaving the area before the bodies were found.  He just leaned back and crossed his arms, as if waiting for a response. As if to wordlessly say ‘I told you so.’

Roman glanced at the paper and sighed, looking almost like a disappointed older brother or father before his gaze flicked away from the headline. It had been a while since they’d seen each other; avoiding glanced in the hallway, a small trip to Japan with his mother. When she’d learned about his subsequent dalliance with Brock, a  _ hunter _ , she left him no choice but to go with her in what she hoped to be a purge of some of his humanity. Roman was left feeling angry and empty, a strange combination now which simmered with such a familiar sting as he found Brock sitting in his room. 

“Are you here to gloat, then? That seems low, even for you.” He sat down on his bed next to the paper, pushing it onto the floor.

Brock clicked his jaw and leaned back, resting his hands behind his head as he gazed over the other young man.  He looked a little bitter, angry, maybe hurt. He didn’t know. He didn’t… well he couldn’t say he didn’t care. Secretly he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have let Roman get as close as he did. 

“Nah.  I’m here ta letcha prove me wrong.” He said, hopping down off his perch and approaching him, before moving past and stuffing the paper into his back pocket.

“I can’t let’em go again.  But I also told ya I’d give’m a chance.  I’d rather not break anymore promises this year, even if they are to  _ you.  _ So…” He shrugged, running his finger along the curtain before peaking outside.  

“Ya gon’ come with me.  We’re gon’ find them.”

There was protest just at the tip of his tongue because he wanted not to care anymore.  He wasn't supposed to care anymore. Promises be damned -- but they weren't. The promise Roman had nearly made with those kids,  vowing to hello them and to possibly show Brock better still rang true. Maybe his mother's purge was not as successful as he needed it  to be. 

“Fine,” he was speaking before he even had time to reconsider. “...We… finish this and I never see you again?” It was meant to be a statement filled with avoid, but instead it turned into a half filled question. 

Brock looked back at Roman from the window and narrowed his eyes for a moment.  That was easier than he thought. He’d prepared an argument and everything. But then he asked a question that sounded like something he genuinely was concerned about.  Brock licked his lip and shrugged, looking back out the window.

“If that’s whatcha want, Hellspawn.” He said, not really giving it much inflection one way or another.  Because it really didn’t matter. He didn’t have room for anyone else to bug him any more. And he still had some Adam-related rage issues to work out.  

“Pack a bag.  I’ll be back in’n hour.” He said over his shoulder as he started to climb out the window.  

\---

 

Roman was waiting outside on the curb when Brock returned, backpack slung loosely over his shoulder and idly kicking rocks on the ground. His family had settled in to wherever they’d probably be for the rest of the evening, leaving Roman with placing a simple note on the counter and pulling on a hoodie.

When Brock pulled up, he tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed in, barely waiting for them to make it to the end of the street before opening with what was probably  _ not _ his best line: “You look like shit.”

Brock had gotten himself a job at the local body shop over the summer to take his mind off of things, but also to save up a little money for a car.  And luckily, he was able to afford a beat up pickup truck that he would work on during his off days. He rolled up around the corner in the old red truck and stopped in front of the other boy.  He heard him and grunted in response. It was true, he’d seen better days. He didn’t much care. 

“Well we can’t all look like you, devil princess.” He said as the other one jumped in.  

“True enough,” Roman almost purred it, but where the flirtation might’ve lingered before, he cut it short now by leaning over to get a better look at Brock’s face. There were more scars now; they suited him. Just like being bruised and bloody could, Roman pictured it perfectly now. He smiled and dragged a finger over one of the larger scars, and then leaned away.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Brock let Roman touch one of the scars for a moment before flinching a bit.  He couldn’t lie, it wasn’t unwelcome, but at the same time he was still trying to avoid it.  As much as he hated to admit it, his heart had been broken by Adam because of himself, and his inkling of feelings for Roman wouldn’t help that.  So he just took a breath and didn’t acknowledge the touch.

“Gon’ be a long time’n the car.  That newspaper from Charleston.” He said, moving forward as they drove toward the edge of town.  

“I ain’t leavin’ town til we find somethin’.  I got some money saved from work. We’cn get a cheap hotel room for a while if’n we hafta.”

Roman’s head dropped back in a childish display of whining. “ _ Really _ ?” He groaned. “I mean, normally I thrive on awkward situations but… That’s a long car ride to ignore the elephant in the middle of our -- whatever we have. Had.” He shrugged dramatically and forcibly looked out the window and not at Brock. Truthfully, he didn’t like that there was no thrill when he looked at Brock; no happiness, or smugness at what he’d done. Roman didn’t feel proud that Brock seemed broken and removed, he felt… Something else. Something that was  _ not _ common for his duties, and that bothered him.

Brock’s jaw clenched a bit and his eyes stayed on the road ahead, hands tightening on the wheel.  

“What we  _ had _ was sex.  There’s really not a lot’t talk bout.” He said, brushing it off.  He didn’t have to go into the aftermath of what giving in to one moment of passion had caused, it was very public.  Adam’s public meltdown in the spring before the end of the school year made sure of that. 

“Right now, what we gots is a business relationship. The kids trust ya. If’n they bad, I kill em.  That’s all we gotta know now.”

The subsequent sinking down into his seat, now desperately fixated on the uninteresting view outside the window. “ _ Fine _ ,” was Roman’s reply, and he only just managed to not huff it out. He seemed deflated about the whole thing, but determined not to keep pushing. Pushing had been what had gotten him into this whole mess, hadn’t it? So. Fuck pushing anymore.

When Brock said he’d kill the kids, Roman finally glanced back toward him, lips pressed together. “So you’re asking me to potentially lure them to their demise? Just to be clear.”

“Ain’t that what ya good at? Luring people?” He said, a little harsher than he intended.  He clicked his jaw once more and adjusted in his seat before continuing. 

“If they ain’t the ones doin’ the killin’ then they ain’t got nothin’ to worry bout.  But if they are, then yes.”

“Oo, catty, Brock,” Roman teased but there was definitely a bite to it that his words didn’t previously hold. It melted quickly, but he didn’t apologize for it.

Brock rolled his eyes.  Yeah, it was probably catty.  There was still that small part of him that wanted to pass off the blame to Roman even though he knew that he went to him willingly.  He didn’t revisit the thought.

“Look, we will do what we gotta do and then we can part ways. Ya can go back to stabbin’ bunnies or whatever.” He said before putting his foot to the gas as they hit the highway at the edge of town. `

“Mm, I don’t have to do that anymore. No more dashing hunters to seduce, the well’s all dried up.” Roman could be catty too, and he had no problems showing it. Never had. The difference was the near sing-song way such pettiness rolled of his tongue, like gentle cuts you might not even notice until later. The point was, if Brock wanted to make him a villain, Roman would just fit himself into the part.

Brock’s nose scrunched in slight annoyance.  Once upon a time, Brock was a creature of vanity, making himself feel worthy by how many notches in his bedpost he got and how many times someone appealed to his ego.  

“Yeah, well sorry mah face is too jacked up for you’t consider dashing.” He snipped.  

“Not that’t matters.  I guess ya right. That well’s dry as the desert.”

Roman let out a loud, obnoxious huff and curled up in his seat. “I’m going to try and sleep. Since we don’t have anything to talk about anyway.”


	9. Two Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the boys move into Charleston to investigate the murders, they run across a mysterious hunter named Connor.

They’d been driving all night.  Well… Brock had been driving, because it kept him sane and kept him from saying anything stupid.  They’d arrived at Charleston by noon the next day. Roman was still curled up in the seat asleep. It was fall and the air was starting to turn chilly.  As Brock parked the car in front of the motel they’d be staying in, he looked at the other boy for a moment before throwing a jacket over him, then got out and headed to the front desk to get them a room.  

Afterward he came out and knocked on the window.

“Rise’n shine, princess.”

Roman woke up with a start, and then a groan as he stretched out from the uncomfortable yet effective ball he’d managed to curl himself into. There was an incoherent mumble and his eyes fumbled through a tired haze, taking in their surroundings, piecing together details, and then slowly, the past half a day or so caught up with him.

“Did you sleep at all…?” he mumbled again, grabbing his back and unfolding out of the car. Again, he stretched, but more fully this time, and only then did he notice the motel they were at. “Oh good, Norman Bates can come kill me in the shower.”

“Nah.  Figured I’d get a nap in ‘fore we go out lookin’ later this afternoon.” Brock said, collapsing on the edge of the bed.  There were two. Brock wanted to make sure there wasn’t too much awkwardness going on. He closed his eyes as he heard Roman fumbling around the room, raising an eyebrow at his Norman Bates comment.

“We could only be so lucky.” He joked, placing his arms behind his head as he watched the other pace.  

“...anyway, I figure we could snoop round the murder scene later today.  See’f anything looks familiar. Maybe one’o them kids lingered around. Who knows?”

Roman paced until he found himself at the foot of Brock’s bed, looking down at him as he spoke but not really listening at all. Brock had a different sort of investment in this case; duty or whatever. Roman simply formed a connection that he wanted to sever but couldn’t, so he was here.

His eyes dipped lower, and then back up. “You’re in the perfect position to ride right now,” as if it was just a casual observation. Which, truly, at the moment it was. Just because he was  _ mad _ at Brock hardly meant he wouldn’t take notice of such things, but there wasn’t quite the will the act on it. Or try to. There was still a little sting at being discarded, even if he’d always known it was coming.

“..And fine, sure. Sounds great.” He practically waved off the suggestion, walking over to his own bed and flopping down. Maybe he’d find something to eat after Brock fell asleep.

Roman certainly had a way with words.  Brock looked up, eyes widening for a moment as he felt the air suck from his body like a swift punch to the gut.  _ “You’re in the perfect position to ride right now…”  _ It rang through his body and caused a flow of blood below.  But Brock wouldn’t give in to that. Not out of boredom. Not to pass the time.  Certainly not because he  _ WANTED  _ to touch Roman again.  So instead he just let out a little cough and rolled over to his side.

“Uh… yeah.  Well… wake me up’n like two hours I s’pose…” He said, grabbing and clutching one of the pillows and forcing his eyes shut.  

Brock couldn’t see him, which was really for the best because Roman was wearing a tiny wicked little smile. The stammering told him enough, that at least he’d managed to make Brock uncomfortable which was no less than he deserved. Truthfully, Roman didn’t know what he wanted anymore, whether it was to have Brock or just to torture him, so in the meantime, he was content to poke at him with a stick until he made up his mind. As if Brock might so easily bend for him again, but even that had its own appeal.

When Brock finally fell asleep, Roman disappeared to raid the snack machine, and rudely woke him up  _ four _ hours later by dumping some snacks on him. “Rise and shine,” he echoed back to Brock, flopping down next to him on his bed.

“There was the creepiest dude in the hallway. He couldn’t take his eyes off me.” Roman paused, biting into a candy bar. “...But who can.”

Brock rolled over and grunted, rubbing his eyes as they readjusted to the dim light in the room.  Roman had laid down next to him to eat some candy, and just on the other side of him was his phone.  He reached out and checked the time to see how much time had actually passed and he growled low and lazy when he saw that Roman did not do as he asked.  But then he collapsed again, arm across Roman as he laid.

“Ya di’n’t do what I asked.” He mumbled, laying for another moment before realizing he was pretty much cuddling Roman.  Slowly, he rolled back over and peeled off a few candy bars whose wrappers had suctioned to his side and tossed them to the side before stting up.  

“Well it’s almost five, we’cn still ask around bout some stuff, I guess.” He shrugged, running hands through his now longer, messy blond hair.  

“Guy stayin’ here?” He said, asking about that guy Roman brought up.  

“Whatever, I let you sleep longer because you needed it.” It was thoughtful, but Roman didn’t seem to notice that that was how it could be taken. In fact, with the shrug he gave as he spoke, it was highly doubtful that he did. The facts to him were that Brock would function better with more sleep, and that he’d let Roman sleep the entire ride, so… The favor was returned.

The arm around him, even for just a moment, gave him pause and he bit into the candy even more aggressively this time to balance the tension that rose in his body. Forcibly, he did not lean into it or acknowledge it, and when Brock slipped away, Roman let him.

“I  _ think _ so. Maybe? I didn’t really stop to ask him since he was like, staring into my soul and all.”

Brock let a little sarcastic chuckle slip from his lips as he sat on the side of the bed. 

“Still claimin’ to have one’f those, eh?” He said, acknowledging Roman’s soul.  He was certain they’d had that conversation before, he was just being a mean spirited joker right now. He pulled out the newspaper that brought them here in the first place and laid back on the bed next to Roman, popping open a candy bar as he scanned the article for street names of where they should start.

“Well…” He said as he looked over the article.  ‘...lemme know’f it happens again…” He nodded. Not that he cared, right? But he needed Roman on this mission, so that meant protecting him from motel pervs.

There was a glare before Roman chucked one of the candy bars at Brock’s chest, the gesture deliberate but playful. They’d had the discussion before, to which at the time, Roman  _ insisted _ that of  _ course _ he had a soul. He’d almost been offended, then. Now? He’d almost be willing to kill to purge it completely, even though his mother had tried so hard to do so already. 

“Oh thank you, what a knight.”

That word.  _ Knight.  _  It may have been a technical term for what he was, the very first Redeemer was a knight and his blood ran through and kept the family line alive.  But it was also the nickname he had from Adam. The Knight to his Prince. It was very… It was something he needed to get over. But he wasn’t about to give Roman more ammunition, so a little wince at the word would have to be enough.  

“Welp, get ready. We gon’ go snooping around’t see’f we can’t find these kids.” He said, sliding off the bed and tossing a jacket at the other boy.  He picked up his hunting bag and slung it over his shoulder, slipping his phone inside along with the newspaper. 

“Maybe ya’cn point this guy out if’n we see him.”

Roman caught his coat and pushed himself up off the bed, stuffing a few more pieces of candy into his pocket and grabbed his phone as well.

“Just like old times, hm?” He didn’t really wait for an answer, just opened the door to a setting sun. “...If we don’t find them tonight, I’ll try communing with them or something. My ancestors see everything.” Rarely did he speak of what he actually was, or how his own demonology worked, but there were breadcrumbs every once in a while. He was a mix of two demons, which made his own genetics a fucked up cocktail of oddities.

Brock shook his head with a little shrug as he muttered “Not quite…” Under his breath, because the old days when Brock needed a little demonic help usually ended up with varying degrees of nudity and sweat.  Something he was trying to avoid for now. He’d let his heart intervene with his duties enough. 

“Yeah, do your demon mumbo jumbo thin’if ya want.” He nodded, jangling the keys to the truck as he opened the door.  He’d hoped that the kids hadn’t left town yet, but they usually didn’t skip out unless they felt threatened, something that Brock managed to successfully do to them without rarely trying last time. 

“So… you think they’s innocent?” He asked genuinely, because honestly, Brock had a lot more of an open mind than he used to.  And lots of creatures killed the way these kids did. It wasn’t unreasonable to think maybe they were in the crossfire of something else.  

There was a sharp laugh at Brock’s question, and Roman tossed a glance toward him as if he thought Brock was just the cutest thing in the world at that moment. “ _ Nothing’s _ innocent,” his bitterness slipping out, “But.. I think they are just as much victims of their crimes as the dead.”

He shrugged. “Demons are made, or they’re born. I’m pretty sure they were made, terribly so, and they’re doing what they have to to survive. Because they don’t know any better. Or because they’re made to, I don’t know.” Roman glanced down at the ground as they walked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Demons are made or they’re born.  Brock supposed that was true of any sort of ‘evil’ in the world.  Hell, Brock was molded into the jaded, hardened person he was today because of the constant abandonment paired with his crippling duties.  But it also meant that Roman was a bit of an anomaly. Because Roman was never  _ truly  _ evil.  At least not in the classical sense.  His instincts just wanted him to be. And it was probably that which intrigued Brock about him, that he had such a conflict of his own self interest of what he should be and what he wanted to be.  A struggle Brock knew too well. 

“So what does that make you?” Brock asked after looking him over a little.  He knew the obvious answer, that he was born to two demons. But he didn’t see anything that  _ made  _ him.  Yet. In any case, he shrugged it off and started to drive.  It took them about ten minutes but they arrived at their destination.  It was a small duplex on the edge of town. The victims were a pair of brothers and their roomate and their girlfriends.  Skewed a little young for their normal victims, but… okay.

“Prolly gon’ need to ask the neighbors if they saw anythin’.”

Quietly, “...I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. No smoke and mirrors, no playful tone, just a light shrug, no eye contact, staring straight ahead. Obviously, the topic was one he’d considered many times before. “My father is easy - he was born. My mother… She’s an anomaly. But I guess… Technically she was made.” Leaving Roman in the middle? His brother seemed fine, maybe even human enough, so it was just him.

“So… I don’t know.”

Luckily, they pulled up and the subject was easily shifted onto something that was not him. He could go back to being the carefree ‘hellspawn’, as Brock called him, who was just there to help with no real attachment to the situation at all. “Sure. Have your social skills improved at all?” Roman’s lips parted into a wide, shit-eating smile.

And it was that human side that felt the pain and the confusion that drew Brock in, made him question a lot of things.  He knew enough about Roman now to still want to try and comfort him, but… he still couldn’t let himself. So he just drove the conversation forward.  

“Heh… I uh… I’m not sure.” He shrugged at the mention of his lack of social skills.  He usually didn’t have to try, because the things he wanted at least used to just sort of fall into his lap since he was reasonably attractive and could at least seduce someone, and then ignore them when he was done.  Punch everyone else. He really had two modes of communication and neither of them were useful for practical situations.

“I usually only talk when I wanna fuck’r punch someone.  As someone who’s been on the opposite end of both’f those, I think you can agree.” He said with a little nod.

“But… I’ll try.” He shrugged, getting out of the truck and walking to the other door, giving it a few knocks.  Nobody was answering, so he pulled back and looked at the other door, thinking maybe they should just go in.

“Think the door’s unlocked?”

“Well maybe you can fuck some answers out of them then,” Roman teased,  finding the ease of slipping back into his show to be relaxing from the brief admonition he'd made in the car

Wordlessly,  Roman reached for the knob, and was very surprised when it turned and opened,  the door creaking inward to reveal a dark and disheveled house. Immediately, Roman moved to duck behind Brock. “It's creepy in there,” he mumbled, just about burying his face in the other boy’s shoulder.  It mints been strange behavior for a demon, but here he was. 

“Yeah, no… Not’f it’s’n old cat lady wit’ a sandpaper vagina.  That’s all you.” He smirked. Maybe he was getting a little more comfortable with the other guy’s presence.  He wouldn’t admit it, but then he’d been hunting by himself for months, since even before Adam and he broke up, since his hunt buddies were Logan and Lincoln, dead or gone respectively.  

The other boy pushed the door open and immediately hid behind him. Brock felt his nose brush against his shoulder, and he tilted his head to give him a side-eye.  

“You’re a demon from hell an’ I’m basically a superhero. Chill.” He scoffed before pushing into the living room.  He looked around, moving his hand against the wall for a light switch. He found it and flicked at it, but to no avail.  It had been a few days, he supposed the power company had already been notified that the residents were… y’know… dead. The moonlight was pretty bright, with a little squinting he could make out dark spots on the floor where there had been blood.

Brock reached in his bag that hung from his side and pulled out his phone, flipping on the flashlight.  The floor was a rust orange color from where someone had unsuccessfully scrubbed blood off of it. There were gashes in the floor.  Not quite from claws. It looked like from a weapon. Knife? Maybe an axe? Something was weird here. 

“Ya seein’ anythin?” He asked, fingers tracing over the gash on the floor.  

“The death smells weird here,” he noted,  roaming around the house, waiting for any touches he got to send shivers of information from the other side,  but it felt jammed and redirected, like the other side was being strained.

“Like um… purposeful, I guess?” Roman looked at some dust on his fingertips from where he'd touched a table. “And why is there dust here already...?”

“Yeah…” Brock agreed.  Something was off. This looked either planned or done by someone with intent on killing, not some ravenous hungry teenagers.  Brock continued to look around, shining the light around the room until the light caught glinting on something just poking out from under one of the loveseats.  Brock leaned over and pulled it out and held it in front of the light.

“I… think these guys may’ve been more’n meets the eye…” He said as the light illuminated an upside down pentagram necklace.  

The pentagram didn't mean much to Roman directly,  though he knew of its abuse and associations now where it had not always once been.  No doubt, it had been used here for something sinister, especially given what Roman found next. “Yeah and um… This?” He lifted his hand after a brush against a particular wall near the back of the room. It was blackened. “Is not dust.  This is ash.” Yet no other signs of a fire were present. 

“I think something came through this wall,  Brock.”

Curiouser and curiouser. Or however that old book went.  Brock just stared at the necklace for a moment and then back down at the gashes in the floor.  He shrugged and stuffed the necklace into his pocket and shined a light on the back wall that Roman mentioned. 

“So many thoughts right now…” He said out loud as he looked around at the different clues that made no sense, even with knowledge of the supernatural that they had.  

“Something came outta there but… I think  _ someone  _ killed these guys.  The marks on the floor look like a weapon.  Maybe… they summoned somethin’n got possessed? Maybe someone went crazy? I donno… a lot’t think about.” He licked his lips and gave the room another once over, but then he heard a rustling in the leaves outside.  Superior Redeemer hearing and all. He reached in his back and gripped his silver dagger and looked toward the door, inching in front of Roman almost instinctively protecting him. 

“Shh… someone’s out there…”

Being quiet was not exactly Roman's strong suit, and he inhaled a sharp breath and hissed out,  “Oh no we're gonna die…” as one of his hands curled into Brock’s arm for security.

Connor emerged from the bushes and was letting himself in the back way,  but he paused only for a moment, as if reconsidering, before opening the door anyway,  glancing around the house through the kitchen and stepping inside almost freakishly silent.  If not for the fact that they had eyes on him, he might’ve been almost impossible to detect.  Or at least, this was Roman’s opinion.

“Oh - That's him,  Brock,” he whispered lowly. 

Connor heard that much,  even for the lowness. “Show yourselves,” he demanded.  “This is a crime scene.”

“We’re not gon’ die.” Brock said in what was probably a comforting voice for him.  The other grabbed on to his arm, but it was fine, he still had access to his knife if he needed it.  When the man entered the room, they had been doing a perfectly good job sitting silent and still, until Roman nervously whispered.  Brock clenched his jaw when the guy acknowledged them.

“We’re aware.” He said in a snarky tone.  “You also trespassin’. I’ve had my fair share’f run ins wit’ the law to know ya ain’t no cop.”

Brock kept his hand clenched around the hilt of the knife in his bag as the other man entered the room.  He was prepared for anything. 

Connor stepped in further,  the moon hitting his face just enough to make his features a little more distinguishable. There was a smile there,  more amused than friendly. “You bragging about that, man?” But he shook his head, not intending to start some sort of pissing contest.

“Anyway, I know why you're here. Same as me.  Trying to figure out who - or what- did this, yeah?” Now, his smile was friendly.  Small, but friendly. 

Meanwhile, under his breath, Roman was having a crisis, “Oh no,  he's hot.”

Brock pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, dropping his knife in his bag and crossing his arms.  “...no I’m not  _ bragging  _  it’s just a… thing…” He dropped it as quickly as it came up because it really made no sense anyway, so he instead just narrowed his eyes and watched the other when he entered into the light of the moon.  

“Wow you’re… ya lack subtlety. But uh… yeah, I guess we here for the same thin’ sure… why you care what happen to these people?” Brock just instinctively didn’t trust people nowadays.  He had a hard time trusting Roman, but he knew he was a valuable asset so he kept him around. Brock heard Roman’s words and rolled his eyes.

“He’s  _ okay _ …” He mumbled back.  

“Well it’s great thatcha have such an interest in your uh… civic duties or whatever, but we were jus’ goin.”  He scrunched his nose up, hand clenching in his pocket over the necklace. 

Connors eyebrows raised a little in surrender. Brock had every reason to be paranoid,  but Connor didn't seem too fussed over it. His job came with misconceptions and skulking about;  he was used to being mistrusted.

“I care because I have to kill whatever did it,” it was almost blurted out,  but while Connor wasn't exactly new to the game, it was also a very lonely life.  Another person like him around --maybe even two people like him -- seemed a special treat. 

“We could go to a diner. Exchange notes, “ He offered before Brock could fully turn away. 

“...right…” Brock skeptically raised an eyebrow at the boy’s sudden passion to find out what killed these twenty-somethings and murder it.  That was a job that was  _ his _ but not one that he held gleefully.  It was a duty, nothing more. It came with some bomb ass perks but he’d much rather trade it in for the life of some boring, average person.  

“What next? Braid each other’s hair?” Brock clenched his jaw and then rolled his eyes after looking over to Roman.  

“Business relationships.  Yay.” He groaned, remembering why he preferred working alone.  “Where to?”

“ _ Brock _ ,” Roman finally chimed in rather than just watching terrible banter between two hunters, really,  he should've felt a little more uncomfortable in the situation than he did, alone in a home with two people who should probably be trying to kill him.  But instead, he was just more interested than ever. “I thought you said you improved your social skills.” 

With an eye roll of his own,  Roman stepped out from behind the other boy to shake Connors hand,  smiling. “I'm Roman, and we'd love to exchange notes.”

\---

 

The diner wasn't far at all,  which was nice because the walk had been relatively awkward between Brock’s standoffishness and Connor’s perceived hospitality. Not that sitting across from the newcomer was much better,  but at least Roman had a rather sizable stack of pancakes to offer some distraction. 

“So, Connor. Do you live here?” Roman asked,  pretending to be interested. 

Brock leaned back in his seat and watched the two converse. It was… odd, to say the least, that at least one other person at this table claimed to do what he did.  He had so many questions but at the same time he didn’t care or trust him. It was… well Brock was a mess. 

“Just passing through like you.” Connor smiled sickly sweet between the two boys.  Brock tugged at the strings on his hoodie and just plowed forward with his trite questioning.

“So you’re a hunter?” Brock said in a very matter of fact manner, gaze moving up to study the other man’s.  

“Why?” He said, barely letting him answer.  

“I just mean, I was born’nto it. Cursed by’t.  What’s your deal?” 

Roman barely resisted facepalming but he dug into his pancakes and went back to quietly listening. 

“I --” Connor paused,  a seriousness settling over him that he had not previously shown. “I wasn't born into it,  but I was made into it. My family…” He trailed off, and then cleared his throat, pouring himself another cup of coffee. 

Roman nudged Brock lightly. “Remember our conversation earlier …?” in reference to the origins of demons.  He hoped to invoke just the slightest sense of consideration from Brock.

“I'm sorry about your loss,  Connor,” Roman said, and he was  _ good _ at sounding sincere.

Connor just shrugged.  “It's nice to be in the presence of two hunters.” To which Roman laughed a little awkwardly and poured himself some tea. 

“Oh, no.  I'm just his ………..friend.”

Brock listened to his story, or what there was of it, and while he still didn’t fully trust him, he could sympathize.  He sipped his soda out of the straw and tapped the side of the glass for a moment before nodding. 

“...my gifts are passed down through ma family.  In order for me’t hunt, somebody had’t die. So… I feel ya.  It’s never an easy life.” He said solemnly. 

Brock heard the awkward pause between his and friend and had to think of something to say.  He wasn’t going to out Roman in front of this stranger. 

“Oh, was that a  _ friend _ I heard in there?” Connor asked.  Brock pursed his lips and shook his head.

“No.  No. I mean not long ag-  no. He’s just somebody I trust wit’ this stuff.” Brock nodded, staring back into the black void of his soda.  

“Yeah,” Connor was also looking down for a moment,  like just the conversation alone brought up the unpleasant well of memories and he could see it on the surface of the table. “Definitely not easy.

Roman looked back and forth between them,  face unreadable, but when Connor perked up just enough to tease them,  he smiled. 

While Brock stammered to explain them, Roman just took another bite of his pancakes. “Not even friends,  then,” he revised his statement, and then gave his best little smile at Connor, more to try to make him uncomfortable than anything else.  “So name a time and a place.”

“Time’n place for what?” Brock gave Roman an annoyed sidelong look. He figured Roman was flirting.  It’s what he did. It’s what  _ Brock _ did once upon a time before he got feelings and then had his heart broken.  Back in the old days it’s what made Roman so fun. All that tension bubbling under the surface, an itch easily scratched with a fun playmate.  But now things were odd and weird because there was something more there that Brock pushed down for the sake of his doomed relationship. Which was why it wasn’t all that surprising when Brock, disgusted as he may be by it, felt the slightest twinge of jealousy.  

Brock decided to push past it and focus on business.  

“So what you know bout them murders? Cuz’t looked like weren’t exactly accidental.”

“ _ Really _ Brock?” As if the other boy didn't know what he was doing,  interrupting the moment before Connor could really answer and turning Connor’s attention to debatably more important topics that weren't about Roman getting laid. 

Connor mostly ignored the outbursts, his attention honing back in on the matter at hand. “Looked like a sacrifice to me.  There were candles there, originally, but the cops took them. 75 candles, I saw it on the police report. -- No idea what they were sacrificing for,  maybe just please someone?” 

Roman almost cut him off with his over eager reply: “Oh they were definitely summoning someone then.” A sure nod was given,  but when he noticed Connor was giving him a strange look, wondering how he might know, Roman just smiled a ditzy little smile.  “...I mean, I'm just guessing. What else would you do with 75 candles? Unless you found like a Barry White album too…”

Brock scrunched his nose at the other boy.  He didn’t trust this Connor. Not at all. I mean… who cares if Roman wanted to fuck him? He was just looking out for him wasn’t he?  Brock just sat silently and looked over the other hunter while he plead his case, then watched Roman fumble himself as he almost outed himself once more.  Brock intervened before it could turn into a thing.

“We had some sacrifices back home.  At least I think. Rome’n I found an altar in the middle of the woods wit’ a bunch’f animal bones’n stuff.  An’ there were a few kids that went missin’ round school ‘fore that.” He nodded, explaining why Roman might know a thing or two about that stuff.  

“We found a buncha black eyed kids lurkin’ round there.  Heard from the reports in the newspaper that someone saw some kids like that round here.  Guess we jus’ decided’t finish the job and so we here.”

“Black Eyed kids?” Connor rubbed his chin,  thoughtfully. “Haven't seen any of those… Are you here to kill them?”

Roman’s jaw clenched but he said nothing. 

Brock chewed on his bottom lip while he looked over to Roman, seeing the discomfort on his face.  Then he looked back over at Connor and smiled, calm and collected.

“Only if they killin’ people.  But… I ain’t convinced they did this.” He said with a little nod, looking back over to Roman and giving him a subtle reassuring nod. 

Roman gave him just the tiniest thank you smile before turning his gaze away,  looking outside while the hunters talked shop. 

“I'm not sure what did.  Never seen anything like this. -- Hey,  look,” Connor scribbled his number down on one of the napkins and slid it over to them.  “I have to get going but let's do some more searching together, yeah? I'll see what I can figure out,  and let you know what I find.” He also drew out some money, more than just for his own meal. 

“Uh… yeah.  We’ll keep’n touch…” Brock said with a nod, still a little at odds with the whole situation.  He’d never known anyone like him before. Well… at least not at the same time he was a hunter.  His father and grandfather kind of had to die before he got the family gift. But maybe he meant well.  After all, it looked like he just paid for their meals as well, and he didn’t have to be so kind. 

“Thanks… you don’t hafta really…” He protested lightly, but he was only met with a sly grin and a wave goodbye.  He watched the other hunter go for a moment, then looked over to Roman. After a moment, he slid over in the booth until he was next to him.

“Wow, Hellspawn. That’s the quietest I’ve seen’t ya.” He joked a bit, following his gaze out the window.  

“Homesick?”

“ _ No _ ,” Roman said,  voice filled with indignance as he only seemed to curl into himself more.  He felt Brock get closer, and there was a tickle of desire to lean back against him,  but Roman didn't take it. He didn't look at him either because he didn't want him to see the small hint of fear that he was sure was in his eyes. 

“I'm fine,” was the lazy,  half assed reply he served. 

Brock could see him avoiding eye contact, which honestly was nothing new in their relationship, but he also knew that the silence started at the talk of killing.  Brock pursed his lips and nodded, playing with the rim of his soda glass. He knew it had to be hard to hear people talk about killing your own, but that was his job.  And he didn’t kill those that hadn’t earned it. He was a protector of all people after all.

“Look, I meant’t, what I said.  I don’t kill nobody that don’t have’t comin’. I… don’t think those kids do.” He said, laying his chin just on the rim of his glass as he looked over at him.  

“...I don’t think you have’t comin’ either.” He said, knowing where the meat of the insecurity was coming from.  

“But… Maybe I do.  Or I will,” Roman said,  shrugging and finally turning to look at Brock, gaze eerily serious in a way that didn't quite sit well on his usually devious face. “Maybe this new hunter guy convinces you.  Or you're not just blinded anymore because you kinda like me,” the last words were said with an empty smile. 

Roman breathed out a heavy sigh,  clearly deflating in his existential crisis.  “Look, I'm not going to bother asking you to make promises you can't keep.  I'm just … becoming aware that I'm potentially endangering myself by helping someone who might very well  _ be _ the biggest danger. To myself.” He shrugged,  like he was trying to shrug it all off.

Brock listened to Roman’s concerns, and they were surprisingly valid.  It was a concern many of his friends brought up to him; what if one day you have to kill me? And it  _ was _ a valid concern in his line of work, especially since half the people he knew were monsters.  Then Roman got to that last little zinger, the part about him liking Roman, and Brock gave a subtle sideways smirk, looking back down into his soda.

“Look, Rome… I’m through lettin’ other people convince me what I should be doin’.  A couple guys tried doin’ that earlier this year and one’s dead, one’s skipped town, and one is currently probably plotting my death, so I don’t plan on bein’ controlled by nobody else.” 

Brock sighed for a moment, then playfully bumped his shoulder against Roman.  “I won’t let’m hurt ya.” Clearly that was Brock’s job. 

After a moment,  Roman smiled and bumped Brock back,  but it was difficult to tell if he was truly comforted behind the smile.  Seemingly done with the moment of exposure, so rare and so Not Him as it was,  Roman quickly transitioned the whole thing back to humor. 

“Honestly, neither of you guys might have the opportunity anyway,” he joked,  glancing down at the plate where his pancakes had once been. “Coach might get to me first.”


	10. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys slowly uncover more about the strange ritual killings through unexpected sources, and finally start to admit that maybe their feelings aren't totally gone.

Roman had all but forced Brock to get more sleep the next day, and pulled another trademark ‘Sure I'll wake you up in two hours’, but this time he didn't even set an alarm and had every intention of letting Brock get a full night's sleep.  During the day. 

Unfortunately,  this left him incredibly bored,  so he walked down to the nearest store which was just a CVS and wandered aimlessly, grabbing a few things for snacks and then finding himself lost in the greeting card aisle for an embarrassingly long amount of time, flipping through birthday cards and laughing to himself at the good ones. 

Connor just  _ happened  _  to be in the neighborhood, and also seldom believed in coincidences.  He saw the boy duck into the store and followed silently behind. Hunters were sly and quick, Roman should know that from experience with as many times as Brock snuck up on him. So he followed behind, dipping into the aisle for batteries and picking up a pack of AA’s before walking by, stopping and feigning surprise when he saw Roman.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here.”

Roman very nearly jumped out of his skin, but he managed to compose himself at the last minute and shot one glance over his shoulder at Connor,  forcing a smile that didn't really hold the same amount of effort his bullshit smiles _ could _ when he was trying to be especially convincing.

“Connor, hi.” Roman shut the card he was looking at and put it back. “Mom’s birthday soon.” As if he felt the need to explain himself before Connor even asked. 

Connor just offered a knowing grin before peering over his shoulder. 

“Mom’s big into Dora the Explorer I see.” He joked.  He looked around for a moment, tapping the case of batteries in his hand.

“I’m just getting some supplies.  Flashlight batteries. All very boring.  Where’s uh… where’s your other half?” He asked innocently, knowing somehow from studying their body language the night before that referring to Brock in such an intimate fashion to Roman would ruffle a feather or two.  He just wanted to see how he’d react honestly. 

Roman cleared his throat,  “Well, you know. She likes languages,” but the last bit sort of deflated into acknowledgement that he couldn't keep that lie going. 

Connor moved on,  and so did Roman, but he didn't like where it moved to. “He's not my - I just hunt with him sometimes,” he lied,  and that part was easier because he lied a million times before. “I'm just helping him out.” That part, however, sounded weaker. 

“Oh.” Connor played coy. As a hunter, half the job was watching and waiting, studying the prey’s moves so you knew what made them tick and what they would do next.  He obviously knew there were buttons there to be pushed. 

“I just mean… he’s really protective of you.  Like he seems grumpy in a tough love kind of way but he seems fond of you so I just figured… nevermind.” He nodded, letting the thread dangle there for a while before moving on.

“Sorry this is weird.  You wanna get some coffee or something? I’ll buy? We can talk shop if you are feeling up to it.”

Roman eyed Connor for a moment,  expression very clearly one of recognition. He'd played these games far too often not to know when it was being played on him,  yet the role reversal was not flattering for him. His lips pressed together in a frown and then he pulled himself together a bit.  He needed to gain some power back in this situation, and was quite frankly just being reminded why showing any sort of vulnerability was idiotic.

“If you want to ask me on a date,  that's all you have to say,” he replied,  shrugging. “Though it's cute the way you danced around making sure I was single first.” There it was again,  his usual playful little smile. 

Well it seemed Connor underestimated Roman, because from the moment he met them he’d pegged him as the weaker link of the two.  But really, this just gave him a new angle to work him with.

Connor leaned in close with a sly smile. “I wouldn’t want to make Brock mad.  But… if you’re saying it’s okay then we can call it a date.” 

Then he flashed a darkly handsome smile and held up his batteries.  “Well let me pay for these and you can tell me where you want to go.”

Roman laughed. “Don't get ahead of yourself,  Connor. You haven't even proven yourself to be a threat,  yet.” The words tasted a little acidic in his mouth, but he let them fall from his lips anyway.  He doubted the guy would end up as interesting as Brock, and his newness made him unpredictable, but…  Maybe this proved an opportunity to clear some of that mystery. Roman needed to know this guy wasn't going to come shove a pillow over his face while he slept. 

“There's a coffee shop down the street,  let's just go there.”

* * * * *

 

Brock woke up and it was already dark.  He grunted and rolled over in the bed and looked around the room that was only lit by the blue moonlight and some dim streetlamps outside.  No Roman. Huh. He looked at the time and rolled his eyes.

“Bastard.”  He muttered under his breath and proceeded to text him.

**_Hey u ok? Where u go?_ **

It was then that he heard a skittering in the darkness.  He didn’t have a shirt on, so no pockets, which meant most everything was in his bag by the bed.  He kept his eyes focused on the part of the room he heard the noise and slipped his hand into the bag, gripping the handle of his silver blade.  

“Rome?” He asked out loud.  Roman was a little shit prankster sometimes, so this wasn’t out of the realm of possibility but he couldn’t be too prepared. 

A smaller figure emerged from the dark corner, hoodie up,  stepping out cautiously. “He's not here,” said the younger boy, and then in a smaller voice.  “I came to see him - please don't hurt me.”

Brock saw the small, sickly boy walk into the moonlight and immediately recognized the coal black eyes.  As a knee-jerk reaction, he pulled out the knife, but upon hearing the boy’s words, he paused and spun the knife before setting it on the night stand.  

“I stabbed ya once, right?” He said, lacking tact but asking honestly.  

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He nodded, watching the figure carefully.  

“What did you want to see Roman for?”

The boy didn't seem to register the apology, but he didn't seem to hold a grudge either.  There were a lot of things out there that wanted to kill them, lately. 

“We were just wondering... He tried to help us before.  But now there's two of your types here and someone's summoning demons and pinning it on us,  honest…” The kid sounded afloat like he was trying to avoid punishment for stealing from the cookie jar.  Except that he sounded very fearful for a severe sort of punishment. “The others think he brought you here to kill us,  but I don't think so.”

Brock was never one to pull punches, especially not with a demon he knew had tasted human flesh at least once before. So he answered honestly.

“I brought him along to convince me not to kill you.” He said in a stern voice.  But he still had sympathy for the kid. He knew that they had only killed Rosie because they were young and scared and hungry and didn’t understand what they were fully.  At least that’s what Roman had him believe. He would give them a pass if it didn’t become a pattern. He didn’t want to be a hypocrite after giving Lincoln a free pass for murdering a guy with magic or Adam a pass for cutting out someone’s tongue.  

“Do you know who is doin’ this? Because I believe ya, but I can’t say for sure if someone else’s gonna believe ya.  I wanna stop this now.”

At the honesty, he cowered slightly,  half his form dipping back into the shadows. But he shook his head quickly in protest. “We don't know who…. We tried to stay away,  but when they started framing us,” he bit his lip, digging into his pocket and unfolding a piece of paper, looking down at it, and then to Brock. It was with great hesitation that he stepped fully out into the room,  and close enough to hand the paper to Brock. The paper was old and withered, with what looked to be some ancient incantations in it, and the burned form of a pentagram seal in the middle. 

“We don't know what it says. Thought maybe you might.  Or him, but he's not here…” The kid glanced toward Roman's bed,  frowning. “He's with that other hunter right now and we don't trust him.”

Brock took the paper and traced the lines of the pentagram with his fingers.  It wasn’t all that dissimilar from the journal in his Armory back home. In fact he probably could find something on it if they were only there.  Sadly he would probably have to rely on Roman’s demonic knowledge for this one. 

Brock followed the kid’s vision and looked at the bed as well, fist clenched and lips pursing.

“Yeah… I don’ trust’m all that much either.” He said, still balancing his viewpoint on the mysterious new hunter.  Although, he was irritated and admittedly a little worried that Roman was alone with him. 

“I’ll tell him you were here.”

“He seems nice,  but he can be…” The kids eyes suddenly widened.  “They know I'm gone. I have to go.” He rushed toward the door in a panic and vanished quickly once outside. 

\-------

 

Roman sucked the sugar off his fingers after tearing apart his croissant, staring at Connor like he was an alien. 

“There's no way you've never had cinnamon before,  I don't buy it.” He squinted at Connor. 

Connor watched the boy eat with an amused smirk and offered a little shrug.

“My family had a lot of weird rules growing up.  There’s lots of things I haven’t properly eaten.” He didn’t make such a big deal out of it because it really wasn’t.  Besides, he was much more interested in finding out more about Roman.

“So you never really elaborated why you help hunt.” He aid, a kind look of interest on his face.  

“Everybody’s got a reason to be in this line of work.  Even if it’s simple.”

Roman still looked at him like he was strange,  but didn't push the issue. And as if on cue, things circled back to the hunt,  but he supposed that was why they were all here, wasn't it? 

“He saved me once. So I go with him now and watch his back. Sometimes it's useful to have an extra hand,” Roman said,  shrugging the lie off easily. 

“I’ve saved a lot of people and they don’t all want to join me on my nightly adventures.  It’s gotta be more than that.” Connor pressed. He assumed that Roman’s obvious feelings for the other hunter were one reason, but there was also something off about him.  Connor wasn’t an empath, but every normal person could tell if someone’s aura was a little weird, and it was radiating off of Roman. He had to know more. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to press.  I just find you...  _ interesting _ .” He said in a flirtatious manner to cover his prying.  

“Well,  I also _ liked _ him,” Roman offered. Sometimes you could afford a small truth to perpetuate a bigger lie. “But he has - had - a boyfriend,  so.”

Roman shrugged.  “Apparently not interesting in the same way I find you,  or we'd no longer be talking.” He smirked and polished off his cup of coffee. 

Connor pursed his lips in an amused half smile.  The other boy was trying hard, he’d give him that.  “I like to get to know someone. Not big into rushing in to things.” Which was true, one of many differences he had from the other hunter.  

“Besides, you said had.  You sure you didn’t want to see if there was still anything there? I mean… especially since he was so quick to cover up for your knowledge on the occult…” He let it dangle for a moment with a smile before continuing.

“I just mean you seem to know a lot about these things for such a casual tagalong is all.”

“I learn quickly,” Roman shut him down again,  frowning as his phone buzzed and he checked it. 

“Anyway - he's awake now.  So I should probably head back.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat for a moment and then slid out from the booth and put some money on the table. 

“Thanks for the company,  Connor.”

 

\-----

 

It was a quiet walk back,  and Roman let himself in to the room quietly,  sighing and setting down the bag of food he'd gotten from the store. “Brought you some actual food instead of just candy. “

Brock was sprawled out on the bed, still shirtless in his jeans with a single crucifix (his grandfather’s) adorning his scarred up chest.  He was flipping through the tv, just passing the time, checking his phone every once in awhile for a response. When the door opened, he raised an eyebrow.  

“Thanks.” He nodded, pursing his lips.  He grunted a little as he adjusted himself, throwing his hands behind his head.

“How was Connor?” He asked, trying not to sound too accusatory.

“...lil birdy told me ya was wit’ him.”

“Prying,” Roman answered honestly, shrugging.  He let his eyes drag over Brock’s chest without much shame,  but said nothing as he sat down on the very edge of his bed. 

“What bird?”

“Prying?” He clicked his tongue and sat up, scooting closer as he talked.  

“I still don’t know bout that guy…” Brock scrunched his nose as he thought about it.  If he was trying to get information out of him, maybe he felt the same about them. Or maybe something a little more sinister…

“The kids’r here.  The one you talk to… he came lookin’ for ya.  Snuck’n here and everything. Said he wanted’t talk to ya.  And… he gave me this.” Brock leaned past him and grabbed the old piece of paper before dropping it in his lap.

“Looks Demon-y. Can’t tell what it is but’m sure’t’s not Shakespeare.”

“Yeah, me neither.  He said it was a date,  but it totally wasn't,” there was a dramatic heave of a sigh,  but Roman's attention shifted at the mention of the kids. 

“Really, they risked coming to you alone?  Wow,” he said, impressed as he scooted closer to look at the paper.  Roman lifted it up from his lap, frowning. “I don't know what this says…”

“Well that’s a relief…” He responded to the date thing.  “Just cuz… y’know… he’s kind’f weird’n all that…”

Brock’s face formed a grimace when Roman said he didn’t know what it said.  He didn’t know who would be able to make sense of it.

“Great.  Now we right back where we started.” Brock was sitting next to him on the bed, but dramatically threw himself back and covered his face.

“You think… maybe he could help? As much as I hate’t say it…” Brock asked with a wince, because it came from the kids and they said they didn’t trust him.  But then they were demons and he was a hunter, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of believability. 

Roman tossed a sly smile over his shoulder at Brock.  “You sound jealous, gorgeous.”

Briefly,  he reached out to console Brock’s frustration,  but stopped short of actually touching him and let his hand drop just beside the other boy. “Maybe he could… but do we risk showing him?”

Brock turned and looked away at being accused of being jealous.  Maybe he was, but it was just a vanity thing. He was used to being the center of attention when it came to Roman’s whims, even if he didn’t expressly want them.  But they were nice to have. 

Brock stayed laying back but arched up on his elbows and looked up at Roman.  “I wanna know what he knows. But I don’t want him knowin’ bout this yet. I wish we was back home because I got some books at the Armory that would prolly help.” He said in a slightly defeated way, peering up at Roman’s face and lingering maybe a little too long on it.  

“...wait.  Do you think you can do that demon thing? You talked bout talkin’ to the dead or somethin right?”

Roman chewed on his lip for a moment,  considering the paper. He wondered if his ancestors would know anything about this language,  or about anything that was going on. 

“It's worth a shot,  I guess,” he said, flopping down beside Brock.  “So are you gonna be in that position  _ every time _ I see you?”

Brock raised an eyebrow to the question and looked down at his body position.  In the past he was  _ very  _ aware of his positioning and often used it as an enticing dance to get what he wanted.  Now he just fell into it without thinking, maybe it was a reflexive thing. Either way, it wasn’t intentional.  Though he had to admit, it felt good garnering some attention after months of being made to feel like the worst kind of creep alive.

“Uh… It weren’t on purpose…” He said with a little chuckle, rolling on to his side and looking at the other boy for a moment.  

“Do… do you need me’t do anythin’ for ya to help wit’ the whole… demon spirit thingy?” He asked, though his eyes still lingered a bit more than he meant to.  

Roman smiled,  shaking his head and poking Brock’s well toned arm. “I was only kidding,” he promised,  almost innocently, which was near immediately deflated by his next comment. 

“Well,  _ actually,  _ sex really helps get the energy flowing.” He gave his best wicked little smile,  and he let the suggestion linger for a moment before snickering. “I really just need to be alone for a while.”

“Seriously?” Brock asked, cocking his head to the side.  Of course Brock would take that seriously, because sex had a power to him.  It healed all his wounds. It was literally magical. But then he also had his doubts.  If it was just  _ business sex  _ it was okay, right? He wasn’t sure how he felt letting someone that knew so much about him get close ever again. And yet amazingly, with his addictive personality, he hadn’t had sex with any strangers.  Roman was actually the last person he’d slept with. 

Of course all the internal dialogue caused him to go silent while thinking for several moments, which he was sure was apparent to Roman.  But then he heard the laughter and scrunched his nose up before rolling his eyes. 

“K then.  I’ll go out’n see’f I can beat any new information outta anybody.” He said, sitting up and rustling around for a shirt. 

“Have fun beating people to a pulp,  darling!” Roman replied in a sing sing voice,  watching Brock put on a shirt and then moving to fish some candles from his bag for set up.

Brock gave the other boy another once over before clicking his tongue and zipping up his hoodie.  He slung his hunt bag over his shoulder and moved to the door.

“Yeah uh… good luck with the… thing.”

\-----

 

Communing with his ancestors was always tiring,  but this time was even more so due to what he could only discern as some sort of spiritual block that had taken far too long to break through.  By the time Roman had gotten to them, he only had time for a few questions, a few answers, before his body gave out and he weakly fell to the floor.  His mother had warned him about straining himself so soon after their rituals, but Roman's stubbornness stayed true. 

He was out for some time,  and woke up feeling heavy and groggy,  taking a moment to place his surroundings (physical world,  he had to keep reminding himself) and then pushed himself up to peek around the room. “...Brock?”

Brock had moved Roman to the bed.  He was passed out on the floor when he’d gotten to the room and it worried him at first, but Brock quickly realized he was breathing and that it may have just been a side effect of the spell.  He’d been in the shower when Roman awoke, and upon hearing his voice he hurriedly threw on a towel and came out to check.

“Heya there, Sleepin’ Beastly.  Welcome back.” He said with a little nod as he moved over to his clothes.  

“Tonight was a bust for me. Just found’t a buncha drunk hillbillies thinkin’ they saw things.  Please tell me ya lil dreamwalk came up wit’ somethin.”

“Mm,” was all Roman gave for a moment,  green eyes slanting toward to clock to see what time it was,  but that didn't really help anchor him yet. That would come in time,  he'd settle back into his physical body layer by layer until he felt fully like himself again. 

“Yeah… It's um - That paper. Wherever it is.  It's a protection spell. To summon protection.”

“Protection?” Brock quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.  

“Sure di’n’t look like protection. But then I’ve never been the magic guy.  Always been they muscle.” He said, sitting on the side of his own bed facing away from Roman as he removed the towel and knelt over to slip on some old shorts.  

“So why’d the kids bring’t to you?” He asked, peering over at the night stand and seeing the pentagram necklace he picked up from the crime scene.

“Unless… it came from them.” He nodded toward it.  

“I don't know,” Roman said,  honestly. He had no idea about any of this,  really, but mostly he was trying to not watch Brock change.  Why was he doing this out here, Roman couldn't help but wonder.  Was he teasing him on purpose? When had these tables turned, he didn't like it. 

He let out an irritated sigh and flopped back down on his bed,  staring up at the ceiling. “There's two hunters in town. Maybe they're covering their asses. Whatever the case,  my ancestors seemed pretty convinced this was for protection. Just … couldn't suss out from what.”

Brock had initially come to town thinking he’d have to kill those demonic kids.  He had nothing to do with those five victims, but now the pieces were starting to form a clearer, yet still somewhat blurry picture.  Roman said when they were there something had been summoned. And he used the same phrasing when talking about this paper. Summon protection.  Could it be that those people cast the spell? Did it backfire and summon something that killed them? Did something kill them before the spell was complete? How did the kids get the paper? It was all just making a weird sense that also produced a dozen more questions.  

“You said at the house yesterday somethin’ was summoned.  If this was the spell, what do you think’t was? And… is it still out there?” He asked, laying across the bed with his chin on his folded arms as his bright blue eyes gazed over at Roman.  

“Oh, it really could've been anything but,” Roman thought about it and then rolled over so he was facing Brock. It felt silly that they were a whole bed apart having the conversation,  or maybe he just kinda wanted the proximity, so before he went on any further he grabbed his pillow and walked over, nudging Brock enough for him to make room and then flopping down beside him. 

“It was something strong,  though. That ash was potent, usually that's a sign of the barrier barriers burning. Stronger entities break doorways open and weaker ones slip right through.” Roman gave an example by simulating an explosion with his hands versus the passing of his palms together gently. 

“Huh.” Brock said, thinking about it for a second.  “Been a while since I wrassled wit’ a biggun. Gonna hafta raid my hatch on the truck for some firepower I s’pose.” 

He rolled on his back next to Roman and covered his face. “Guess we gon be huntin’ some portal demon tomorrow. I’m done workin’ tonight.” He said as he hopped up and fetched a bag of chips from the bag of stuff Roman brought and settled back down next to him.  He opened it and tossed a few in his mouth before laying back again and side-eyeing Roman.

“Those kids really do trust ya, y’know? It’s kinda sweet I guess. Y’know, in that demons from hell kinda way.”

“Can't wait,” Roman deadpanned, but he really,  really could. As he watched Brock, he wondered if he knew of the rules.  Of the restrictions Roman had on the amount of help he could really provide.  How, if he wanted to stay in good graces, he'd have to watch Brock die target than interfere with a deadly blow. ...Brock probably didn't know. He had no reason to.

“Amazing what you can achieve with the trust of a demon,  hm?” Roman's smile turned sly. 

Brock gave him a sarcastic look, shaking his head as he ate another chip.  

“Who says I trust you?” He teased, though clearly by now, Roman knew better.  Brock had already said it anyway. Yeah, it probably helped that there was still feelings he’d left unaddressed due to the complicated romantic entanglements they were previously in, but Roman had also come through on a lot of things.  And it was nice to have allies that knew what he did and had skills of their own that could help. That’s one thing he missed when he lost Lincoln and Logan. 

“You’re lucky ya charmin’.  Else I’d’ve put a knife in ya gut by now.” Again, it wasn’t said in seriousness.  Even if there was a tiny bit of truth to it. 

“Gut feeling,” Roman replied,  smirking. 

His voice lowered and he reached out,  for the first time touching Brock a little more intimately than previously. Just a ghost of a touch,  fingers dancing up his abs. “You really know how to talk romance,” he replied, innocently as his hand drew away. 

Brock felt the fingers tap along his stomach and his muscles clenched.  Not necessarily in a bad way, just more so unexpected. He looked down at Roman for a moment, then gave what could be considered for Brock a  _ shy  _ smile before looking away.  It was then that he decided he should just address the big pink elephant they’d been living with this entire trip.

“I never said I was sorry…” He blurted out, eyes on the ceiling as he tried to think of what to say.

“For treatin’ ya how I did.  Bein’ a jerk. All’f it. But I am.  Sorry, I mean.” He bit his lip and looked down at the other boy with sincere eyes.  

“Ya’ve always been weirdly nice’t me.  You didn’t deserve’t be led on and hurt.  I deserved all the rain of shit that happened to me… so… sorry.”

Roman looked over at Brock,  silent during his confession even if he had a lot to say about it. After Brock finished,  he drew in a deep breath and caught his gaze, reaching up to brush a hand so gently across his cheek. 

“I'm guilty too. I knew what I was doing…” Roman dropped how hand from Brock’s cheek.  “My dad was  _ so _ mad at me when he found out what I did to you and Adam.  He's …. Really romantic.” Roman shrugged, trying to shrug it off.

“My mom just took me to Japan hoping to try and purge me from having feelings anymore or something. - But I'm not sure it worked.” He looked over at Brock again.  “Anyway what I mean to say is …. It's fine.”

Brock gave a little half smile at the hand on his cheek, then gave a little shrug himself.  

“Still… I knew better.  An’ I’ve always been kinda a colossal fuck up so…” He pursed his lips and breathed out. He listened to Roman, eyebrow quirking at ‘ _ I’m not sure it worked’. _ He gave a lopsided little smile and looked away at the wall while he gathered his thoughts. He had some other things he wanted to say about it but he wasn’t sure it was the time.  And he was also scared to say them, because his breakup left him skittish, which was weird for Brock. Still he moved the conversation in the opposite direction.

“Always wanted’t go’t Japan.” He said in an almost hopeful manner.  He’d barely been outside of O’cock for most of his life, he wasn’t sure he had any other options. 

“We both are,” Roman assured him,  implying that perhaps they were both fuck ups on their own ways.  The words were serious, but a playful smile followed. 

The subject change was a welcome one;  Roman had been so open and honest with Brock lately that he was beginning to worry himself.  He needed to steel himself against this guy again, for both of their sakes, he felt. 

“You should.  Such a change of pace from here,  and it's beautiful.” 

“Maybe one’o these days.  If’n I can catch a break from this destiny’o mine.” He said with a little shrug, slumping over to his side and laying his head on the pillow. These days he didn’t try to think about the future too much.  It only distracted him and got him into trouble anyway. 

“But hey, one adventure’t a time, right? We here for now.” He said with a doofy little half grin, hand reaching out to playfully swat at Roman’s chest, but his hand went limp against the warmth of his chest as he got comfortable and his eyes started to close.  Something about Roman put him strangely at ease and he could rest easy around him when he barely slept at all back home, and he suddenly realized how tired he was. 

“Sounds like the best course of action.” Roman gave a solemn nod,  feigning wisdom at Brock’s words. It was probably smarter to take life by smaller bits at a time,  otherwise it was ready to go mad. 

He smiled as Brock started to drift in and out,  and for moment, continued to let him rest his hand on his chest, both of them taking some comfort in having the other close.  But that wasn't helping his resolution to pull away very much. So with some effort, Roman pulled himself away. “Think it's my turn for a shower,” he mumbled lowly,  grabbing his bag as he got off the bed. 

Brock instinctively gripped his shirt for a moment, opening one eye momentarily before letting him go.  In truth he kind of wanted him to stay, but he wasn’t ready to admit that so openly, not when even though it had been a few months the wounds from his last relationship still felt so fresh.  So he nodded for a moment then rolled on to his back. 

“I’ll make sure Norman Bates don’ getcha.  Know you was concerned bout that.” He said, rubbing his eyes for a moment before looking back up at him with a little half grin.  

“ _ Thank _ you.  Dying in the shower would be an embarrassing way to go,  especially to my family,” Roman said with a little snicker,  disappearing into the bathroom. He'd only intended to take a quick shower,  but the warmth and pressure of the water felt nice, so a brief five minute rinse turned into a much longer affair. 

When he emerged again,  he hadn't yet put on his shirt,  and was drying his hair with the towel. He sighed and flopped down on his bed. “Looks like you help up your end of the bargain.” He smiled.  He was still safe, though really, god help the poor sap that tried to kill him in the shower. 

Brock watched him emerge and tried not to pay attention to the little rivulets of water still dripping down his toned chest.  Roman had the privilege of being one of the very few people he’d been with that had a physique similar to his own with that broad upper torso that must have come from all the football he played.  Of course, a moment of looking was still a moment, and he was sure Roman picked up on it. He  _ always _ did.  

“Well I’m a man of my word.  Least I try’t be.” He said with a little nod, laying back on his pillow and closing his eyes, though one eye slanted open to peek a look at the other to see what it was he was doing.   

Roman  _ did _ pick up on it,  but he didn't say anything. Just finished drying his hair and pulled a shirt on,  then left his own bed to settle back onto Brock’s.

“Maybe you should go talk to Connor tomorrow.  And I'll talk to the kids.”

“Bout what?” Brock grunted for a moment, lost before he remembered.  

“Oh yeah…  I dunno. If I talk to’m it’s gon’ be cryptic at best.  Still unsure of him.” Of course he also said that because the kids told him they didn’t trust him.  But they were demons, he was a hunter. And yet…

But he lost his train of thought as the other settled into the bed next to him.  But at the same time, his own body language was looser than it was the day before.  He’d allowed himself to be comfortable around him, despite his reservations. Mostly, it was just nice to be around someone again.  

“...y-yeah.  Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, be careful with him.  He's pretty persistent. And like, he didn't stop needling me for info even when I offered him sex, so.” Roman shrugged and sighed heavily. As far as he was concerned,  there was definitely something off about this guy. 

At the tiny stumble of Brock’s words,  he couldn't help it if his lips spread into a sly little smile. “Don't worry,  I'm sleeping in my own bed.”

Brock gave his own little half smile and stayed silent for a moment.  But then he just spoke without thinking.

“...you don’t hafta.  If you want.” He said, wincing a moment after because he realized he sounded so fucking lame.  When the fuck did Brock Hewitt, stallion of Onancock, become a nervous loser? 

“Fuck, that was stupid.  I just… ugh…” Brock threw an arm over his eyes and shook his head.

“Ya could prolly tell’ts really been months since I’ve properly conversated wit’ someone.”

“It  _ has _ ?” Roman asked, dramatic and teasing.  His grin said as much. Instead of agreeing one way or the other,  he just laid down beside Brock and got a little more comfortable. He'd sleep in his own bed,  but he could stay here for now. 

“What do you wanna talk about?  Or …. Do you know any games?” Roman realized he struggled now to find something for them to do in the down time,  since previously the solution to boredom would be simple enough. 

“Shuddap.” Brock grimaced for a moment, then shrugged.  

“I just shut myself off.  S’what I do.” He nodded. They sat in silence for a few brief moments before Roman asked if he wanted to play any games.  Brock turned and looked at him for a moment with big blue eyes before giving a sincere laugh. Reminded him of that time they played tic tac toe in the autoshop. When Brock realized he might  _ like  _ him.  And then promptly panicked.  It was a weird time. 

“Uh… I dunno.  Truth’r Dare?” He shrugged, then realized that might be a colossally bad idea.

“You sure about that,  hunter?” Roman flashed a playfully predatory smile.  That same one he used to use, that wasn't strictly human,  even if nothing about it was really easily placed is  _ in _ human.

Before Brock could even back out,  though, Roman said, “You go first.” 

Brock saw the glint of the demon underneath and his breath hitched for a moment.  It was a silly, strange thing that the man who was supposed to kill these supernatural creatures couldn’t help but be somewhat attracted to them, but here he was.  Brock just rolled his eyes and gave a little smirk, then looked him in the eyes again. He didn’t really feel like moving, so he would save dare for later.

“Hmmm… truth?”

“ _ Hm _ ,” it was a tougher option,  really. Roman wasn't exactly the best with vulnerability, but this seemed an opportune time to encourage some from Brock.

“Do you …. Wish you hated me?” It was a wonder.  It would surely have made Brock's life easier, he suspected. Maybe he also wondered if Brock regretted their time together,  but for his own sake, he wouldn't ask. 

Brock chewed his lower lip as he thought of the answer.  Sure, he wanted to hate him. But hating him would be placing the blame completely on him.  That wasn’t fair, right? They both felt things. At least Brock assumed, he didn’t ask in depth.  

“I...no. I uh… I tried.  But truth is I couldn’t. All you did was feel somethin’.  Ya couldn’t help it.  _ I couldn’t… _ uh…” He stopped before he went too far.  But it was nice to get something out now that the dust had settled.  He shook his head and gave a smile.

“Uh… your turn, right?” 

“I could've helped it,” Roman told him very seriously,  in this moment wanting Brock to understand that he knew what he did was wrong,  not excusable because of potential feelings. “I knew you were seeing someone. You told me.”

His gaze was not meeting the other boy's when he answered,  “Truth…” with a tone of unease. 

“ _ Do you still… _ ” Brock stopped and winced and retracted before anything came out.  Instead he just rephrased it into something else. 

“I mean… did you mean’t when ya said ya didn’t wan’t see me after this?” He asked, echoing what he said in his room a few nights ago.  Though it wasn’t his original question, it was something he was still curious about. 

_ Say yes _ came the knee jerk thoughts, the impulsive wiring of his demonic side telling him to eject from the situation sparking to life. 

But instead he said, “Not anymore.  I was hurt - I  _ definitely _ meant it then but…. Not now. “

“Your turn.”

Brock listened to his response and nodded.  He understood the hurt. Brock couldn’t help it.  He’d developed feelings, but he also had a relationship that had been good to him for months.  He owed it to Adam to try. Either way he was breaking a heart. But it didn’t work out. Roman didn’t have to speak to him again if he didn’t want to.  But he was, and Brock was… relieved and happy that he was. He offered a sincere look, and gave his arm a squeeze before instinctively pulling away.

“I uh… I’m glad.” He said with an awkward nod before blurting out “Dare.”

Roman gave a tiny smile,  but was glad for the distraction of the dare.  He rubbed his hands together in an exaggerated manner and grinned.  “ _ Alriight _ .”

Even he couldn't keep up that act though,  so he just continued his thought process. “After this,  I dare you to take a whole weekend off from hunting and go do something and enjoy yourself.  Leave town if you need to.”

Brock let out a little chortle and shook his head before looking at Roman from the side of his eyes.

“That’s  _ hardly  _ a dare, darlin’.” He smirked.  Then he licked his lips and thought about it for a moment before scooting closer to Roman, looking him in the eyes before speaking.

“Fine. Then I dare you’t come wit’ me.” He said, a little less unsure of himself, a little more of a demand and a request at the same time.  He realized he hadn’t felt this at ease in months and was looking forward to more of it if he could have it. 

“Hey - I didn't even…” His will the argue collapsed quickly under the weight of wanting to get Brock back with a dare. “I dare you to kiss me, “ before he even had time to catch up with himself. 

“I di’nt ask…” Brock interjected to the boy with a firm look and a smile.  But then he quickly shot back with a dare of his own that made Brock stop and blink.  He chewed on his lip and looked away for a moment, thinking on it. But his thoughts were stupid and stopped quickly as he turned back to him and leaned forward and pressed his lips against Roman’s, thumb resting against the boy’s chin.  It wasn’t aggressive or sexual like their desperate trysts in the past. It was a slower, softer pace because neither one of them were probably ready to jump to that yet with all the hurt they’d been through. After a moment, he pulled away.

“....truth’r dare?”

Roman returned the kiss easily,  but the softer pace almost hurt more than something hot or hungry.  It stirred all those feelings he'd been failing to stifle, and all those worries attached to things like his soul -- he'd given part of it away already,  which he never wanted to tell Brock. Looking back, maybe it was a rash choice made out of hurt and spite, but his mother was there to capitalize either way, intending to cement her son to his demonic roots,  not the human limbo he seemed to struggle with. But the kiss was so nice, having Brock close again was so nice. 

“Truth…?” he answered in a small voice. 

Brock felt so many things after the kiss.  Butterflies. Knots. A hint of sadness because he knew how shitty he’d been to Roman and that he didn’t deserve to even have Roman’s kindness but this happened.  And for the first time in months he felt like he wasn’t scum for once. It was a small reprieve, but it helped.

He searched his mind for a question, but he figured they were being honest, so he’d stick with that theme. 

“I… do you…” He struggled to find the phrasing but everything sounded stupid.  “Do you… still feel…  _ something _ ?” He asked.  Yeah that was stupid.  

There was a small look of panic,  suddenly, as the words were voiced.  In a way, he'd already mentioned that he did earlier,  but the circumstances were different, less intimate. He might feel things now but for how long,  he had no idea. 

“We should go to bed,” he practically jumped up while he spoke.

Brock was both surprised and half expecting that reaction, and he knew it was stupid and sensitive when he said it but he’d always been blunt, so… he just let it out.  But Roman jumped up and ran to his own bed and he nodded for a moment before clicking out the lamp on the nightstand between them, laying back as the moonlight cascaded through the blinds and cast a blue glow on his shirtless form.  After a few moments of silence, he spoke.

“Yeah… I do too.” He said, answering his own question before rolling over and leaving him alone.  

\-----

 

Roman awoke in the same position he’d forcibly fallen asleep in, on his side, back facing Brock’s direction. It had been shitty sleep, though. Memories of time spent with his mother, of hasty decisions he was now coming to regret. Anxiety ridden dreams that walked just the side of reality, to the point where his waking just felt like a momentary extension of his slumber. Life was easier when he was just the bitchy drama student who hit people a little too hard on the football field. How had this happened to him?

“Mmph,” was the rather unceremonious noise he produced when he sat up, looking around the room. It was a bright morning, even with the curtains drawn he could see that. He wasn’t ready for the sunshine and cheer.

Brock slept okay.  In fact it was one of the few nights he slept sound.  Because he wasn’t stressing about the same things. Because despite how Roman felt about the situation, Brock was just happy to have it out. To at least have brought some sort of sense of catharsis to the situation.  Of course this wasn’t his first tango. He admitted his feelings last night and he knew Roman was freaked, so he’d play the ‘let’s ignore last night until we can’t’ game as long as it was going. 

He’d woken up a bit before him and was trying to slip out before he woke up so Roman wouldn’t have to feel so awkward.  He fumbled on the dresser in his bag making sure everything was in it, jacket and beanie cap on for the cool fall air. He heard him rustle behind him and debated whether it would be good or not to say anything.  But he was always garish and blunt so why not.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” He said over his shoulder.  

“Was just bout’t step out.  Got a date wit’ Connor. And by date I mean suspicion and possible punching.  Or maybe actual fucking, I donno, I’ll feel it out.” He joked, peeking over his shoulder to see if he was okay.

“...do you need anythin’? I uh… I can stop by the store an’ getcha… somethin’.  I donno…”

Roman just gave a sleepy smile and shrug. “If you fuck him, let me know how he looks without a shirt.” He stood, stretching and looking for his own bag.

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll go… Wander. See if I can find the kids or something.”

Brock raised an eyebrow.  He wasn’t  _ serious _ about fucking Connor.  Well…  _ Maybe _ … he was cute but still, Brock’s mind was elsewhere.  Still he turned and slung his bag over his shoulder and looked over the other boy for a moment.  After tapping his crucifix necklace thoughtfully against his lips for a second, he placed his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“Uh… be careful, okay?  Call me’f ya need me. OR just… if ya find somethin’.  Whatever.” He said, tapping his shoulder, giving him a bright smile before moving to the door.  

“I’ll come runnin’. Jus’ say the word.”  Now he was babbling. 

Roman  _ almost _ leaned into the touch. Almost. But he did offer a smile, seeming much less tense and awkward than he had the previous evening. Truthfully, he was just too tired to feel that way, so the sleepiness let him coast on autopilot.

“Yeah, you too. I could rip his arms off for you, no problem.” It was said in such a way that maybe he was joking(?), but he’d never fully displayed his demonic half to Brock out of fear and a lack of necessity. And besides, there were rules.

“If you don’t hear from me in a couple hours, there’s a problem.”

At the comment about ripping his arms off, Brock gave an amused smile. “I believe’t, killer.” He said, not in a crude manner.  Almost affectionately. Actually affectionately probably. Before he fully opened the door, he reached in his pocket and threw his keys to Roman.

“You can take my truck. I run fast. Jus’... like be careful wit’t.” He nodded, opening the door and nodding to Roman.  

“Since you’re prolly gon’ be coverin’ more ground lookin’ for the critters’n all.”

“Oh um,  okay…” He looked at the keys in his hand and watched Brock leave.  Guess it was time to get dressed and get moving. 

 


	11. Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dangerous truths and enemies are revealed.

 

Connor was back at the scene of the crime,  using the light of day to guide his eye, hoping that without the distraction of the other hunter and whatever his companion was,  he might be able to find something. 

But distraction he would get.  Brock was still unsure of what to think about this guy.  He was attractive and somewhat nice. He paid for their meal the other day. But he’d known plenty of people to conceal their aggression with kindness.  Hell, even Brock used to be a pro at it, before the brigade of sad boys broke his feelings in the last year.

Brock leaned against the door and lit up a cigarette before the other realized he was there, then loudly flicked his lighter shut before looking at him with slanted eyes.  

“You look like someone that ain’t had a lick’a luck here recently.” He said, offering a smile and a sincere change in tone from their last meeting.  He moved closer in the room and peered over his shoulder.

“We’d be’n the same boat.  But at least this place looks different’n the daylight.  Might could find somethin’ lil better now.”

If Connor was surprised by the appearance of Brock, he had a good poker face.  Instead of jumping, he smiled and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, that was my thought process,  but haven't seen much yet that a cell phone flashlight wouldn't show.”

He sighed and almost deflated some,  looking curious. “Where’s your friend? Or did he book it.  Doesn't quite seem cut out for this.’

Brock scrunched his nose at mention of Roman.  He wanted to defend him, but really what did he care what this guy thought of him.  He just took another quick drag of his cigarette and shrugged.

“Rome isn’t full time like me. And he’s just having… a weird day I guess.” He said, looking over the other hunter with curious eyes.  A bystander would see the way he looked at him as if he were checking him out. And in a way he was, he wasn’t a sore sight to look at.  But he was scanning him for weapons. Tools. Things that were out of the ordinary. Things that might have made the scuff marks on the floor of the very place they stood.  When he was sure Connor had seen him, he made a blush face and looked away.

“Sorry, it’s been a weird day for all’f us I guess.” He shrugged, taking a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it out the cracked open door.  

“Look, I should prolly apologize for bein’ such a dick the other day.  I’m just very serious bout my work.”

Connor shrugged, easily, but his face didn’t exactly have a readable expression, even as he accepted the apology. “That makes two of us.”

He was quiet for a moment, feigning a continued search, but he doubled back smoothly and tossed a glance back Brock’s way, gaze lingering longer than just assessing where he was in the room. “You don’t seem the type to blush easily,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to the strange shape on the wall where Roman had said a portal was previously.

Hook line and sinker.  He hadn’t completely forgotten how to play on someone’s emotions for selfish reasons.  How else would he have slept with half the Junior class by the beginning of the school year last year if he hadn’t been a good actor?  Still, he offered a smile and a little shrug.

“I don’t but… I donno.  It’s been a long time since someone caught me checkin’ em out.  Forgot how to act.” He nodded coyly, letting it sit in the air for a moment before he looked at where his line of sight went.  He approached him and closed the gap between their shoulders, leaning in just a tad closer than he should and asked about his thoughts. 

“What ya reckon came outta there? Demonic entity? Ghost? Giant snake? Cuz I’ve fought all three ‘fore and can’t say I like any’f em.”

“Definitely a demon,” Connor said with a weird sort of sureness. “I wasn’t here when it came out or anything but… I was hunting some. Chased them here. I don’t know what the fuck they were calling though.” He leaned against the wall, frowning.

Then, he tried his own hand at coy. “Was hoping you could tell me. You seem more experienced and all…”

Brock gave a sly grin and looked at Connor through mischievous eyes, then gave him a little tap on the shoulder.

“You have no idea, mister.” He said, a devious little lilt in his voice.  All the while he was mentally taking note of things. He was chasing demons to this location? Could it be that those people killed were the demons? If they were summoning protection then they were scared… of him.  But maybe he had his reasons. Maybe they were murderous demons. Maybe they were doing something genuinely evil. That was the life of a hunter. You were boogeyman to the boogeymen. He’d have to find out more before he made a judgement, even if pieces were starting to come together a little easier.  

“These uh… runes here…” He said, approaching the wall and running his fingertip across an ashy emblem underneath the burn marks.  “I seen’em before. They’s usually protection. Wiccan stuff. Whoever did this was scared. Summoned a boogeyman’t help out.” He mused, pulling some truths and mixing it with some Wicca mumbo jumbo he remembered from Lincoln.  He turned his attention back to Connor and thought over his words carefully before smiling and continuing. 

“If ya pump me anymore ya gon’ haveta buy me a drink.  For information that is.”

Connor laughed and looked down like he’d been caught, but really, he was amused by the similarities between this hunter and his companion. Both had said virtually the same thing to him now, but why not take a little bit advantage if he needed to.

“Yeah, huh,” he replied, smirking. “For information.”

His gaze dipped back toward the wall, rolling over Brock’s words in his mind, before his attention turned back to the other hunter and he shrugged. “Sure, I can do that. Unless you wanna skip that.” He smiled.

Brock just let a little smirk cross his face.  For a moment he actually truly considered it, for real.  He hadn’t had sex for months and he was a former addict gone cold turkey.  But at the same time, he had a terrible habit of sleeping with would-be enemies, and now he had a tangled mess of feelings that came with that.  But still, this was an angle he had to work with so he would push it where he needed it to go.

He approached the other hunter and placed a firm hand on his chest, piercing blue eyes looking up at him (Brock is still short, after all).  He chuckled and looked back down at the floor, kicking at the dust in a manner that could be considered shyly. “Sorry, I ain’t been touched’n a while. Makes me come off’s desperate…” He said, clenching his shirt, free hand travelling underneath and tracing along the contours of Connor’s surprisingly chiseled abs.

“I hate it.” He said sternly, letting the hand fall down to the backside of Connor’s jeans, pressing and grabbing firmly, what looked like groping actually a frisk.  The hunter had a knife on him, he could tell, and he wanted to see if it matched the marks on the floor.

“That’s fine,” Connor replied lowly, softly. Brock didn’t have to apologize, and despite the fact he probably should’ve been aware of it, he didn’t consider that the other boy might be frisking him and he let Brock’s hands roam freely as his own shot out to Brock’s hips.

He didn’t kiss him, though, not on the lips. Connor’s head dipped downward toward the side of Brock’s neck as he pulled him a little closer. It felt nice to have another hunter around, even if they barely knew each other. It was a lonely, thankless job. This guy seemed like he understood.

“They were a fucked up family, you know,” he mumbled against the skin of Brock’s neck, confiding in him about the so-called innocent family that had been living here.

Brock continued his search disguised as groping, though honestly a fair amount of real groping was had. Brock certainly wasn’t innocent.  Luckily he found the shaft of a blade in one of Connor’s back pockets. That was down, great. Now…

“Fuck.” Connor pulled him in and nipped at his neck, one of his weakest spots, and suddenly his seduction game was turned and very real.  He went a little limp against him for a moment, just losing himself for a second as his hands crept back up under his shirt. Then he started talking, and it knocked him out of it, luckily.  And piqued his interest.

“Mmm, how so?” He asked in a silky tone, his own mouth tracing the side of the other hunter’s ear.  This was going well. Though the deeper it got, even if it was an act, the more… guilty he felt? Mainly because if he took this part too far he didn’t want to tell Roman.  Because that somehow felt wrong.

He’d stop it before it happened. He had control again.

Connor had leaned back just a little to catch Brock’s gaze, but that didn’t last long either as his hands slid up from the other boy’s hips and up underneath his shirt, locking onto him as if satisfied with the removal of anything else between them. He didn’t seem to be too focused on answers at the moment, because _now_ he was getting distracted enough to lose focus of the conversation a little as he dipped back in to continue the path he’d started from Brock’s neck to his jaw.

The question eventually caught up to him, or he to it, and his tone implied he thought Brock ought to have figured it out by now -- “They were demons too. Trying to pose as good people, but I saw through it. And they’re all terrible anyway. They tried to summon help but…”

Connor shrugged, his lips finally meeting Brock’s and he seemed about done with talking.

And as soon as Brock thought he had control, hands slid up his shirt, removing it, leaving them chest to chest.  Lips nuzzled up his neck. He gasped for air, his fingertips tugging at the top of Connor’s jeans. It was lucky for him that Connor remembered to answer his question before it got too much further.  It would seem Brock’s control still needed a little work.

But the way he described it.  Demons that were… just trying to be good people? Live lives? Demons like… Roman.  It made his blood boil. Not just for Roman, but for every non human he’d made friends with over the last few years.  

So he settled into the kiss, kissing back intensely, furiously as he took the moment to slip the knife from Connor’s back pocket to his own.  Then he pushed him back on the hard floor and mounted him, kissing back more as his hands moved up each side of Connor’s arms, pulling them above his head and holding them to the floor with one hand.

“Mmmm… this where you did it?” He asked in a sexual tone, his hand slipping into his own back pocket, slowly pulling out the knife.

“Think they was scared?” He said, a little more aggressive before pulling the knife out and stabbing it into the floor next to his head, right into one of the marks on the floor.

“Huh.  Perfect fit.” He said, retracting it then holding it to Connor’s throat.

“So they literally did nothin’ cept live? Did they even do anythin’ to you? To anyone?”

Connor was blinded by several emotions the moment Brock climbed onto him, but things went south too quickly to have to discern between them. With his hands pinned, he was only left to growl, looking none too remorseful. The nice guy act slipped quickly enough in the face of being threatened, but with a knife to the throat, there was only so much that could be done.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he asked, darkly, the sting of being threatened with his own weapon burning just underneath his skin. “Are you really defending them? Isn’t this your job? Who cares if they did anything or not - it was a matter of time.”

At his core, yes… technically that was his job.  If he were ever to give completely in to the Redeemer inside him, then maybe he would see things the way Connor did.  But Brock had more honor than that. Brock grew up feeling like an outcast, and he knew that many of his inhuman friends felt the same.  It wasn’t his job to annihilate them just for existing. It was his job to deal with horrors that the law of man could not. There was a difference.

“It’s not my job’t kill blindly.  It’s my job’t protect those who can’t protect themselves.  Just cuz they ain’t like you’n me don’t mean they deserve’t.  If they was eatin’ people then I could understand. But you don’ sound like you care.” He said, blade pressing against his neck, shaking a bit as Brock wasn’t sure what to do.  He’d never been in this situation before. Connor was human. But the demons he hunted were innocent. If he let him go, he’d kill again. But if he killed him, he’d be a murderer.  He hesitated. If Connor was any kind of fighter worth his salt he’d take advantage of it.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Connor spat, noticing the shaking, the hesitation, and exacerbating it enough to agitate Brock’s grip. Then it was a matter of knocking him back -- _off_ \-- and getting that fucking knife away from his throat. He saw the opportunity presented in Brock’s eyes and he took it, one daring roll to put their position nearly reverse and brought one quick, hard punch down to Brock’s jaw before getting up.

He hook his head, looking a little disappointed. “Thought I could learn from you. But you’re not any good at this. Now give me my fucking knife.”

Brock fell back to the floor, head spinning as the punch rattled his brain.  He’d never been hit by another hunter before. Monsters were all claws, didn’t fight much.  And the school tussles with the trailer park boys were never rowdy enough, they weren’t that strong.  But this guy was a studied fighter, and probably mystically strong like him as well. He’d have to fight smart.  

He looked up at him, blood dripping from a split lip, and laughed a bit.  Then with a sarcastic look, he replied. “....Okay.” And with that he stabbed his knife through Connor’s boot and shot up to his feet to deliver him an uppercut to his jaw as payback for his own.  

Connor saw red and swore loudly, the stab and punch colliding all at once and shoving Brock back, hard, into something -- ANYTHING -- a shelf, a table, a wall -- whatever the fuck he could and with all his strength was about all he could manage just to give some distance, buy himself some time and … retrieve his knife with a pained grunt.

He steeled through the pain shooting up through his body, least he had his weapon back, and rushed toward Brock, fully intending to return the kindness. It was a rabid swing, but guided with clear skill, and the knife drove right into the other boy’s thigh, grip twisting just slightly.

“I bet you fuck them too, don’t you,” Connor sounded disgusted with Brock, shaking his head. He couldn’t imagine letting something inhuman touch him. “Since you care about them so much.”

Brock flew backward and smashed into a shelf, books and trinkets flying everywhere as the boards cracked beneath his body.  Before he had a chance to react, the other hunter lunged and stabbed into his leg. Brock cried out, his hand shooting out on reflex and grabbing one of the boards behind him, snapping it off just as Connor twisted the blade.  He began to breath fast, trying not to focus on the pain as Connor made his smart comments to him. He just laughed.

“Someone sounds jealous.” He said, bring the board down over his head with a crack.  When the other hunter stumbled he swung it again, smashing it across his face once more.

“As a matter of fact, they were the best fuckin’ lays’f my life.” He said, sweeping the other boy under the legs with the board and pressing the edge against his neck when he hit the floor.  He limped a bit as he pulled the knife from his leg and threw it to the floor.

Connor once again hit the floor and was effectively, for the moment, rendered useless. But he refuse to surrender completely, so he fought verbally where he could not immediately physically respond.

“You gonna kill me now?”

Goddammit.  Here he was again, not moments later, unable to kill someone who would probably have no reservations killing him.  It was just too against his moral code. Brock just glared at him for a moment, blood boiling as he thought of his next move.  Then without a second to spare, he snapped back the board and slammed it across Connor’s face harder than he’d done before, knocking him unconscious.  

“No.” He said, throwing the board to the floor as he limped away.  If Connor was a true hunter, he’d live through this. Brock would find a way to deal with him when he had a clearer mind later.  

“Not yet…”  He said, slipping on his shirt painfully now that he was covered in bruises and scratches before grabbing his bag and limping out the door.  

*****

 

Ron was hardly a perfect husband.  In fact, he was a terrible one. One that openly beat his wife outside of bars in front of sorority girls.  One that shouldn’t be tolerated. So after he was done causing the spectacle, he walked around back behind the Tap Room, a little hole in the wall bar on the bad side of town, to light up a cigarette.  But as soon as he struck the flint on his lighter, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down in the dim light of his lighter to see blood pouring from his chest, a dark, bloody, yet perfectly manicured hand holding… his slowly beating heart.  Blood poured from his mouth as he fell forward, the hand pulling back through the hole as he did so. As he hit the ground, his last vision was of the sorority girl. The pretty, dark skinned one with the braids, looking at him with nary an emotion on her face.  Before he succumbed, he heard her girlish yet monotone voice.

“You are not the one.” She said eerily, squishing the heart and throwing it to the ground beside him.  He was not her intended target. She must continue to roam until she found it. She walked down the opposite end of the alleyway, shaking her hand as the blood seemed to evaporate from it.  She would find the target. She would return home.

Roman almost walked right into her, nearly walking by her, in fact, until he felt a familiar tug of something not quite human and paused, glancing over to the girl, and then down the alleyway. His eyes widened a bit at the heap of human forms left at the other end, and he gave a resounding, “ _Oh_ ,” before turning back toward her.

She felt the shoulder tumble against hers.  She would have kept walking, caring not for the human world, but the spark of energy in that little fumble stopped her.  She turned her head slow, looking at him in dead, unblinking eyes for a moment, as if she was reading his very soul or lack thereof with a look.  Then with a single word, rude and inhumanly crass, she spoke.

“Mutt.” She said.  To him it may have sounded like a demonic/speciest comment but in her mind it made all the sense in the world.  She was pureblood, older than this earth, from the origins of hell. This child was demon, but mixed breed, part of his soul missing but the stink of human emotions remaining.  He was interesting, but he also mattered not. So she turned back on her way and tried to keep walking.

Roman nearly rolled his eyes at the comment; it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, and likely not the last, but it was still grating in ways he supposed the oldest of them didn’t understand. His mother even used it, though her connotation was also different. She was old too much older than his father he didn’t get the terminology of the lower world at all.

“Looking for something?” was all he shot back, just a hint of knowing in his tone. “You might wanna try blinking, if you’re going to fit in here, Old One.” It was just _this_ side of respectful, the way he used the title.

The halfbreed asked if she was looking for something.  She turned, full body at once as if she had a purpose. Eyes still unblinking, face lacking any sense of humor.  

“I look for one that does us harm.  I must destroy it so that I may return to my realm. I grow tired of this conversation.” She said, staring through him again.

“If you do not have the answers I seek then remove yourself from my presence.” The more irritated she got, the more a low rumble accompanied her voice, like a demonic echo.  Really, it was more of a party trick to scare the lower beings into cooperating.

Roman squinted at her for a moment,  listening to what she had to say, anything she'd give. “Oh, yeah.  Thought you are here for something else…” he turned, intending to let her go on her way as he grew increasingly concerned about Brock’s safety now.  She was Old but he would definitely want to stop her from killing anyone else.

Hopefully the prayer circle gave specifics,  because if not, she might end up hunting Brock too.

The boy’s heart started to race.  He was nervous. She could hear his blood pumping faster, smell the fear secreting from his pores.  She stimulated a reaction from him.

Not one to beat around the bush, as many Old Ones were not, she snatched him by the shoulder and pushed him against the brick wall behind them, pretty manicured nails wrapping tightly around his neck. She leaned in, nose sniffing along his lips for a moment before pulling back and gazing into his eyes.

“You are intimate with one that would do us harm.” She said, tightening her grip a little.  She gazed into his eyes, as if telepathically searching for answers. Maybe literally. After a moment, she released him.  

“He is not the one.  Curious hunter that would take the blade of a sword for the love of a demon.” She said, casually dismissing their strange relationship in a few words.

“Have you any more for me or are we done?”

Roman frowned when he was pinned to the wall,  but he didn't struggle. It would've only made things worse to do so,  so he let her take what she needed for the moment, not meeting her gaze when he didn't have to.

“That's all,” he practically ground out. “He's not that one,  like you said.”

“So there is more than one in this village?” She asked, again cold and emotionless, her terminology dated much since the last time she was in this plane.  She cocked her head to the side, eyes still unblinking, like a snake, before stepping back toward him.

“Do you know where this one is? I tire of this world.  It reeks of human filth and everyone keeps asking me if I have seen tiny monsters on their magic bricks.  It is strange and I despise it.” She said, making a strange prehistoric reference to everyone’s recent obsession with Pokemon Go.  

“I have no idea,” he answered honestly.  Where Connor could be right now was anyone's guess,  and Roman didn't know the town well enough to speculate. It was getting close to time to let Brock know he was alive,  but also, he needed to make sure he was going to stay that way first.

At the dated reference, he smiled a little,  biting back a laugh now that she was so close. “It's a game…” The information was useless though,  he knew.

“Games are for putrid tiny humans.” She said, searching the boy’s face for anything else she could get from him.  When she decided nothing else could be gained, she turned.

“Your cooperation is appreciated, halfling. I will find the one and I will destroy it.”

“Yeah, um …. Enjoy that then,” he said awkwardly,  not having much of an opinion on poor Connor’s fate.  With her dismissal, he slid from the wall and turned to leave again. Hopefully she'd let him this time.


	12. Eve of Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeling from his battle with the real killer, Brock and Roman share tender moments as they prepare for the end of their investigation.

Brock had limped all the way to the motel.  Being a Redeemer, his body took more punishment than your average human.  He could make it, it just wouldn’t feel good. By the time he’d reached the room, blood had caked his jeans.  His lip was swollen and his jaw was purple. His back underneath his shirt was covered in cuts and scratches from being thrown about and into things.  It was an average day at the office, but it was also a fight against someone with the same strength and skill he had so it hurt possibly a little more.

He just fell back onto the bed when he got there, too weak to move any more.  He just needed to rest in a safe space for a moment before anything else. When he finally mustered up the energy, he stripped off his clothes and left them, bloody and torn, at the foot of the bed, before standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom and staring at himself, beaten and bruised once more.  He winced as he pressed at his lip, then at his leg. Great. New scars. 

He ran a bath and lay down in it, letting the warm water soothe his wounds.  It wasn’t long before he dozed off, letting the stress of the day overtake him as the water of the tub turned a rusty color from all the blood that washed off his body.  He wouldn’t be in his best fighting condition with his leg like this for at least two or three days, until his healing caught up a little, and even then it would still be strained.  He just hoped he’d be a match for Connor the next time they met. 

Roman let himself into the room and it felt like only then had he let out a real breath. He pressed his back against the door and shut his eyes, sighing heavily and trying to calm down. It’d be so easy to find Connor and just lead him to the Old One, but Brock would probably be mad at him and he just had this  _ feeling _ that she wasn’t letting him (or Brock) off as easily as it seemed. 

When he opened his eyes, he spotted the blood. Then his oversensitive senses picked up the scent; how had he not noticed that before??

“...Brock?” he asked, a little panicking, following the trail to the bathroom and then, upon seeing Brock passed out in the tub, yelled louder as he rushed over, “Brock!!”

Really he wasn’t that far gone.  Just tired. Relaxed. Letting the pain fade away in the warm water, something he’d learned to appreciate the longer he lived with this job.  He heard the screaming, felt Roman’s hands grip his shoulders as they started to shake a little. With eyes still shut, his hand shot out of the water and gripped him by the wrist, then peered up through a half lidded stare.

“I’m fine.” He said, words a little muted as he slowly woke back from his very short nap.  He rolled his head back before completely opening his eyes, then looked back over at Roman with a weak grin.

“Just lil sore’s all.”

“Uh huh….” Roman said, trying to cover up some of his initial panic.  He let go of the other boy's shoulders and leaned away some, biting his lip and trying not to look too awkward about what was perhaps a drastic overreaction.

“...What happened to you?”

Brock sat up in the tub and ran his hands through his wet, blond locks, squeezing out water as he pressed down.  He looked down and remembered he was naked, it was the tub after all. But mostly, he didn’t care. Roman had seen it.  They’d been intimate before. Brock was never really bashful about nudity. So he sat and looked up at him in a very laissez faire attitude and shrugged.

“Was right bout Connor.” He said with a nod.

“Those people was demons.  But not like…  _ evil _ ones.  Jus’ plain ol’ workin’ class livin’ the American dream people.  That were, y’know, demons. An’ he killed’m cuz they was different.” He said, very aware of how much danger Roman would be in if he were found out.  Brock wouldn’t let that happen. 

“He uh… let his guard down. It… we... “ This part was oddly the one he dreaded, but it was just part of the job.  He exploited an opening for the greater good. And Roman seemed like their kiss freaked him out anyway so he shouldn’t have felt some type of way about it, but he did.  

“...I kissed’m.  Made a distraction so he’d relax.  An’ so I could swipe his knife, which… I got acquainted wit’ anyway…” He said, nodding down to the open wound on his thigh.  

“When I found out what he did to them.  What he could do to  _ you _ … I snapped.  Tried’t kill’m.  But… couldn’t. I’m just not built that way.  Monsters are easy but… when it has a face lookin’ back at me like that, I couldn’t.” He said, feeling as if it made him a shit hunter.  But Connor was human. The human world had laws for people like him. But then, the human law didn’t protect inhuman people. It was a judgement call he wasn’t yet ready to make.

Still, with an exasperated sigh, he stood, clumsily and hobbly on one leg, and nodded at the towel behind Roman.  “Can ya hand me that?”

Roman frowned, listening to Brock, quelling the thumping he felt in his chest when Brock said he’d nearly killed Connor because he was thinking about  _ Roman _ . That shouldn’t be right - ...right? It wasn’t human to find that appealing.

“Brock…” But there wasn’t much to say about it, was there? There was a time when Brock didn’t seem that different from Connor to him. Cruel and insensitive, misunderstanding of demon lives, like he’d rather just be rid of them all than deal with their grievances. Instead of continuing, he nodded and turned, grabbing the towel and hold it out to him.

“Do you need me to look at that? Not that I know what I’m doing but,” he shrugged uselessly, trying to distract himself from well of upset he felt knowing Brock and Connor had kissed. That wasn’t fair, was it?

It was very true. When his powers first activated, he had no remorse, didn’t differentiate the difference between evil demons and demons that were just trying to get by.  He didn’t know there was a moral grey area. He saw things in black and white. It wasn’t until he’d established a friendship with a werewolf that he started to think maybe they weren’t all that bad.  It started to grow more when he was with Adam, and realized that monsters weren’t evil, just complicated. Hell, even Roman he was evil to during their first few encounters. Not that Roman was all that innocent.  He used that to his advantage to seduce him on the regular. Memories that while troubling sometimes, were fond. He had to admit, he had a chemistry with Roman that he really didn’t have with anyone else.

Brock took the towel and dried off for a moment before wrapping it around his waist, smirking a bit and shaking his head.

“I was in a coma this time last year.  I seen’t worse. I’ll live. But… thank ya.” He said with a smile.  Now came the hard part. The walking. He moved to get out of the bed and put pressure on his bad leg and must have pinched a nerve or something, because tumbling forward he went, plowing into Roman’s chest and knocking him against the sink.  But he was able to steady himself against his chest, realizing his face was right up against Roman’s. His big blue eyes looked up at him, then looked down for a moment, trying to catch his towel. 

“O’course I open my mouth just’t insert my foot.”

Roman actually laughed as his back hit the sink, and he put hands to Brock’s chest and shoulder to steady him, smile remaining on his face even after the laugh faded. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “You’re a mess,” he teased, lightly, moving to stand beside Brock and pull his arm up around Roman’s shoulder so he could help him out to the bed.

“...Maybe we should just go back, Brock. What are we even doing here?” The levity was brief as his mind dipped back to his encounter with the demon, worrying for Brock’s safety again. If they just left, the demon would eventually find what she came there for, and she’d have no reason to come looking for them so far. It was the perfect plan.

Brock let himself be helped, despite how much he used to fight it.  Clearly his leg still needed some time to heal before he could do anything with it.  Still, it was… nice to even have the fleeting contact with him. He fell to the bed and sat upright on the edge as Roman went on about leaving.  Brock shook his head. That wasn’t right to him either.

“Connor said he was a traveler the first day we met him. What happens’f he makes his way to O’cock? Finds out bout your family? Your brother? An’ we didn’t stop him when we had the chance?” He said, looking up at him with empathetic eyes.

“If anythin’ happens to you… I mean… you all…” But especially him.  “Plus those kids’r still in town. They’ve been clean since ya talked’t them.  We gotta protect them too.” He reached up and grabbed his arm, giving it a squeeze for a moment before dropping his hand and looking down at the floor. 

“I gotta stop him. He’s a killer.”

Roman looked thoroughly unimpressed and momentarily irritated by Brock’s nobility, but even that, he supposed, had been part of the draw in the end. What had started out as an attempt just to ruin a hot-headed hunter had developed into more as he discovered the person underneath. So instead, his lips pressed into a frown and he squinted at Brock for a moment, green eyes narrowed in assessment.

“Ugh - Fine. ...But maybe I should do it. He’s… Human. That has to be hard for you, right? Killing him?” It was only a guess. He couldn’t exactly relate to this particular sentiment, and it showed.

“I… don’t know…” Brock licked his lips as he thought about it.  Maybe he had a point, but he couldn’t let him do it. It was a burden he had to bear, because it was part of his job.  Redeemers had killed humans in the past if they had to. It just wasn’t something they liked to do. 

“My job’s to protect people from things they can’t protect themselves from. Connor is human yeah.  But he’s also a hunter, like me. Maybe gifted like me. Meaning he still technically falls underneath the whole supernatural threat thing.  So… I jus’ gotta man up’n do it.” 

He laid back on the bed and placed an arm over his forehead and gave a little shrug.  “I also don’ want to put that on ya. Ya got ‘nuff on ya plate tryna convince the world you a good guy wit’ all the demony stuff.  An I believe you’re a good person now… for real. So I can’t letcha do it.”

“ _ Honestly _ I could do without my brother…” Roman replied, and seemed completely serious until he realized that might not have sold Brock on thinking he was a decent creature. Not that he should care what Brock thought of him, except for the fact that if Brock  _ didn’t _ think that, he might try to kill him one day.

“At least let me help, then,” he pried, with every intention of trying to completely bypass having to do it period. “He declared war on all of us with his behavior. We deserve to fight back.”

Brock snickered at the comment about his brother.

“And yet despite how good ya are, you’re still a jerk.” He said, but affectionately and jokingly.  He looked at the other boy for a moment, watching his lips move as he talked and had to catch himself from staring.  Still, he couldn’t help but speak his mind.

“...You’re a lot braver’n I gave ya credit for.” He said, paying the other boy a compliment.  Before, he just thought of him as a lowly, cowardly demon that was probably just vile and evil.  Back when he thought like Connor. But that melted away the more time he’d spent with him, getting to know a very real person with wants and dreams, even if he was a demon.  

“Okay.  Just… don’ jump’n the line of fire. Let me do the stupid things.” He said with a nod.  “I wan’ ya to make’t out of here in one piece. I prefer ya that way.”

“Oh my god, stop with the deep compliments, you’ll make me blush,” Roman said with a grin. He could take compliments of his appearance for days, because, well, he knew what he looked like. But the meaningful little reassurances made him skittish. Being told he was good almost made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Deal,” he said, sitting down beside Brock. “Because as it so happens, I like myself in one piece too.”

Brock chuckled a bit, feeling a strange warmth in his chest.  The realization that he liked making Roman smile and blush. That he would go out of his way to do it more.  It was a weird situation but… he was used to weird situations. 

Brock scooted back until he laid alongside the other, wincing a bit when pressure went back on his knife wound.  At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Perk of healing quicker than your average bear. Still, he leaned on his hand and looked up at the other while they sat for a few moments.  Not saying much. He wasn’t sure if he should talk about what else happened with Connor, because if he wasn’t such a sociopath Brock probably wouldn’t have stopped, which was shameful to himself but… whatever.

“...So we know what happened on my day wit’ the gaping wounds’n stuff.  Ya find them kids?”

Roman glanced down at him while he repositioned himself into a more comfortable arrangement, a tiny, fond smile playing on his lips.

“I didn’t find much of anything,” he lied, barely with any guilt. Brock had never dealt with an Old One, he was certain. Not many people did, really, demon, hunter or otherwise. Conjuring one was a tough feat, and dangerous; only the most desperate of sorts even bothered, especially for protection. If things went wrong, as this one had… Well, the results were chaotic and destructive. Roman didn’t want Brock near any of that, he had a feeling this was one fight even a hunter couldn’t win.

“I think the kids might’ve moved on. And it makes sense, if Connor’s just murdering whatever demons he can find…”

Brock scrunched his lips in a slight frown.  It was the likeliest answer, that they’d moved on.  But it would still be nice to know for certain what their fate had been.  He nodded and laid his head down on the bed as he looked back up at the other boy, once again finding himself staring at the perfect dimpled corners of his lips.  Dammit. He needed to stop that.

“Well I suppose no news’s good news.” Brock said, trying to draw his attention away from staring at Roman.  The last few days had made it very apparent to him that it wasn’t just sex as he’d so violently, adamantly insisted before.  Maybe they needed to wrap this story up before either one of them got their feelings twisted up again.

“Fine.  I guess we’re at the end’f the road then.  Tomorrow I… I’ll find Connor. And we end it.”

Roman could practically taste the hesitation;  the weight, and he frowned but nodded. He wouldn’t say this was something that didn't need to be fine,  because he definitely believed Connor deserved to die, but he knew that wound hurt Brock and he felt bad for that. 

“Yeah, maybe we should rest then.” And then,  as if to be a shit and break the tension, he grinned and offered,  “Do you want me to tuck you in?”

Brock sat up and quirked an eyebrow at his comment, then gave a little half smirk.  

“You’re so… weird.” He said, unsure of what else to say.  But it was coupled with a completely charmed, daresay, smitten laugh.  He patted his shoulder and left it there for a moment, shaking his head.

“Whatever ya wan’ do, Ro.” He said with a sincere smile before scooting to the edge of the bed again, trying to stand up without enraging his leg wound.  He contemplated finding shorts but figured… fuck it. He hurt, Roman had seen him naked before. Who cared? So he raised the blanket and slid in as the towel fell.  

And as promised, Roman leaned over him, tucking him in gently and cooing softly, “Goodnight Brock.”

Brock just gave a little smile and nod, reaching over and gripping the hand that tucked the blanket over him.  This was weird, but it was nice in a way. He gave the hand a squeeze, reluctant to let it go for a moment but reluctant to hold on longer than he needed to.  So he released it for a moment and peaked up at Roman.

“Yeah… er… night.” He said, rolling over and facing away from Roman as he went over all the confusing shit that ran through his brain the last few days.

\-----

 

It wasn’t hard to find her again, he just had to follow the scent of blood and the otherworldly pull of destruction. She wasn’t hiding, but it was strange that she hadn’t found her target yet. Connor must’ve been hiding; Roman briefly wondered if he’d left town, but he didn’t seem the type to abandon his post, especially not with a grudge against Brock that was likely brewing.

“Still haven’t found what you were looking for?” he asked, keeping a healthy, cautious distance between them this time. Not that it would help. She was faster than him, he knew, but it made him feel better anyway.

It was strange that a being as powerful as she had not been able to find what she was looking for.  But truly, she did have her limitations. She had power beyond measure but she didn’t have knowledge of all things.  That was a gift for another Old One. Instead she just remained attracted to violence, leaving a path of mauled criminals in her wake, always the same.  She’d kill them and the blood would dissipate as if it were never on her skin in the first place. The one she sought would slip up and cause terror again.  Had the ritual completed maybe she would know who it was she was looking for, but it stopped short and she emerged when her acolytes had already been killed, hours after the fact. For now she just had to hunt those whose behavior matched her target until she found a match.  

She walked along the dark streets when the familiar voice spoke up behind her.  Much like an animal with a purpose, she turned her entire body around, face unblinking in response.  

“Mutt.  You have returned.” She said, stony faced as always.  “Your presence annoys me.”

“I get that a lot,” Roman admitted, and it sounded like a joke, but then he thought about it and… He really did. But he supposed he was irritating, defensively. Grating even. He liked to get under people’s skin, it was just an effect of being what he was.

“Anyway… I want to make a deal with you. In exchange for my help.”

The Old One just stared at Roman, unimpressed and uncaring.

“I fail to see how making a deal with a lower being is prudent to my desires.” She said, as if she would roll her eyes were she human.  But she cocked her head to the side, much like a snake, still unblinking as she studied him. As if she was reading him. His mind. His scents.  His body language.

“This is about your filthy hunter.  The one you experience lowly human emotions for.” She was still unimpressed.  But strangely intrigued. Humans were like insignificant ants to her, but there was something so strange about a mutt, who came from a lineage that just reeked of fire and brimstone, who seemed to have given at least part of his soul, to have such conflicting emotions about a creature thats sole purpose was to kill him.  Maybe he could entertain her after all. This was a disaster she would love to see. 

“Speak now.”

He breathed out an irritated sounded, but calmed himself. “ _ Yeah _ , it’s about him. Brock -  _ my _ hunter -” Strange to say, with the double meaning, “I want to… Make sure you don’t come for him. He’s not like the others. I want to make sure he’s safe.” Despite how much power she had against him, Roman’s voice was loud and clear, unwavering. He wasn’t afraid of striking a deal with her, not for Brock. Not when it came to protecting him.

“And in exchange, when I see what you’re looking for. I’ll call you. I have your spell. Won’t be hard.” He shrugged. “Then you get to go home, and everyone’s happy except the piece of shit that you’re hunting.”

The mutt was amusing to her.  Giving her orders? Making it sound like a request but still demanding she not kill as she wished.  She walked closer to him, the echo starting in her voice again.

“I’ve destroyed cities.  Murdered humans by the thousands with my bare hands because it pleased me.  Your tiny hunter means nothing to me. If I wish to kill him I shall.” She said with the demonic lull in her voice even if the expression on her face never changed.  But then it melted away and she had her feminine, albeit monotone voice again. 

“I can smell him on you.  His scent does not match the one that I was summoned for.  I have no quarrel with your hunter. Until he has quarrel with me, that is.” She said, making sure he knew that she didn’t care about his hunter, but she didn’t seek him either.  Only that she’d tear him apart were he to stop her. 

It was an act of defiance that he rarely suppressed, the eyeroll, but he thought it best not to, so Roman simple swallowed his annoyance at her speech. He’d heard similar things before, and while he undoubtedly believed them -- why else would he be making deals on Brock’s behalf if he didn’t -- there was just something so old world about the lecturing…

“Fine.” He didn’t meet her gaze, not this time. “Then we’re fine. When I find who you’re looking for, you’ll know.” Because he wanted her to.

“I will know.” She said, looking over him again with her unwavering expression.  Eyes glinting as if she was reading something off of him.

“You have my talisman.  Wear it. I will know when you find what I seek.” She said.  Undoubtedly confusing Roman in the process. She was of course referencing the old pentagram necklace Brock had found under the couch the first night at the crime scene.  It had the same symbols engraved on it as were on the paper. 

“Tis easier than trying to summon me again.”  It would seem days in a human body was already attuning her to how the creatures favored practicality.  

“Right…” Roman was obviously confused, but he’d figure it out. If she said he had it, then he must’ve at least had access to it. Maybe it was something Brock had, in which case, it would not be difficult to attain.

“I guess we’re done then.” There were no goodbyes, but he didn’t think she’d mind that. Just him turning to walk back from the direction he’d come.

And she didn’t care.  Goodbyes were for humans.  She as well turned and went on her way.

*****

 

Brock had been dreaming.  Shitty, terrible dreams about how he was a failure at being a hero.  He’d failed to save Logan. He’d failed in Lincoln’s eyes and he just left town without another word.  He’d failed to be Adam’s hero for vastly different reasons. And something in him kept telling him that he would get Roman killed, and that made him feel worse.  

He shot up, covered in a thin layer of sweat and looked over, seeing his bed empty.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” He hobbled out of bed and grabbed an old pair of shorts, trying not to disturb his wound too much when he slipped them on.

“Roman?” He called out to the bathroom in case he was in there.

“Uh… demon kids?” He asked aloud as well, because this was eerily similar to a few nights ago.

“Anyone?” Fuck what if Connor came and took him? He’d never forgive himself. 

None the wiser to Brock’s worries,  Roman let himself in feeling both on edge but also incredibly relieved.  He paused just in the doorway, seeing the concern on the other's face. “Hey - You alright?”

Brock looked at the door as it opened and blinked for a few moments. He had a weird habit of waking up just in time for these types of things.  Maybe it was some sort of link to his intuition as the Redeemer, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was relieved when the other walked through the door safely.

“You go out lookin’ again?” He asked, eyebrow raised as his body relaxed knowing he was at least okay.  

“Ya really shouldn’t go ‘lone anymore.  It ain’t safe now that we got Hannibal the hunter out there.”

“I know,  but I didn't want to wake you.  You need to heal,” he replied, almost pleasantly. “Besides,” the pleasantness extended into something a little more musical; dangerous. “I'm not as helpless as he thinks.”

Roman lifted his hands and the fingers into into long,  thin claws, dark and reflective like obsidian. He had a number of things he wanted to do to Connor,  but handing him down to a powerful demon seemed on.

Brock was about to protest, about how he knew but he wanted to make sure Roman stayed safe.  But then Roman did something he didn’t expect. He revealed his claws, giving Brock perhaps the best look of at least part of Roman’s demonic heritage the entire time he’d known him.  He’s seen the flashes of his razor-like teeth every now and then, but only for a brief moment in what seemed like a party trick for Roman. This new look piqued his curiosity. It was strange that the things he was supposed to kill he was so intimately fascinated by.  Just like he’d been with Logan in his werewolf form, or Adam in his serpentine form. He was a monster slayer and somehow a monster groupie at the same time. He had… issues. But he still found them fascinating.

Without much of a thought, he moved forward and held his own hand up to Roman’s, studying how much longer his fingers were, how much darker his skin now was now that their palms were pressed together.  He offered a genuine, lopsided smile as he stared at their hands. 

“Sorry.  You never let me see ya like this.” He said, still studying their differences.  “It’s just cool’s all.”

Strangely, letting even the tiniest piece of his other side out nearly had him instinctively recoiling as Brock moved closer, but he steeled himself. This was  _ Brock _ , not just anyone. Brock who was learning to defend the creatures he hunted just as much as he was hunting them. Brock wouldn’t hurt him, not unless he had to, but always, the lingering  _ unless _ …

Roman couldn’t help but wonder sometimes when that unless would come. When he’d do something so unforgivable that Brock would turn against him. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?

Still, he smiled, a little tentatively and let the reflective skin travel up to his forearms, revealing more of himself, skin darker with little plays of deep reds and purples as the it caught the light at the right angles. It was like looking at a rock, almost, and his hands were cool in Brock’s. “I hardly let anyone see me like this.”

“Why not?” Brock asked.  The answer was probably obvious.  The supernatural code was to live in the shadows so you didn’t get hurt, or people didn’t suspect  _ you  _ would hurt  _ them _ , depending on the creature.  And of course there was the hunter/demon dynamic that he was sure still played in the back of Roman’s mind.  It played in the back of his own occasionally too, but then Brock felt like he wouldn’t let it get to that point.  He was hopefully optimistic that way, which was saying a lot because at his lowest points he could be the worst kind of glass completely empty guy.  

He felt Roman try to recoil and somehow, as if on instinct, his fingers interlocked with Roman’s so he couldn’t pull away.  He wasn’t done studying. And he wasn’t going to harm him. He just wanted to know more. 

“It’s kinda pretty in a way.  Ya got the color’f a glass’o wine or somethin’.  I’m surprised. From the way ya made it out ya were haggard and terrible but it’s kinda… beautiful really.” He said.  The more he studied the more his own hidden side came out. The Brock he didn’t let other people know. The one that watched every episode of Ancient Aliens, the one that checked out every book in the library on Medieval Architecture.  The one that just wanted to  _ know  _ things, even if his curiosity took him too far sometimes.  

“Brock…” Roman said in a tone that suggested it should’ve been the most obvious reason in the world. Inevitably, if Roman showed himself to someone, he’d have to kill them to keep them quiet, wouldn’t he? Besides, his demonic form, while physically power, was not his preferred method of attacking people. He liked the subtle turn of rocks that his mother tended toward; removing one stone at a time from the walls.

“My dad’s like a … Mountain demon. They  _ are _ haggard. Like… Mossy and bloody and rocky most of the time. But my mother was made from radiation, so… I guess this skin is like a split difference.” Truthfully, it was tough and interesting trying to navigate his physiological differences between the two creatures that made him, and how those differences combined to make  _ him _ . What he got from them, and what he didn’t.

“But… Thanks. For the compliment.”

Brock listened.  _ Really  _ listened.  Yeah he was a hunter.  Yeah his job was to kill the things that went bump in the night.  It didn’t mean he didn’t find them interesting, that he didn’t want to understand them better.  Plus, he felt like for the first time.... Ever really, Roman was actually opening up. Not playing stupid games or pretending to be something he wasn’t for attention.  Just being real. 

“I think that’s… the most ya’ve ever talked about yourself truthfully.  I mean… in a  _ non-egotistical _ manner.” Brock said in jest, but a smile creeping at the corner of his lips.  

“Who knew you had layers?” He chided him again.  He suddenly remembered he was basically holding his hand, but he didn’t immediately let it go.  Just gave it a squeeze, letting his thumb brush over the back of Roman’s knuckle. 

“Sorry I don’ mean’t talk your arm off, I just thought ya should know that I like this… honest side’f ya.” He said with a nod before letting go of his hand.  

“I should letcha out of this doorway.” He chuckled as he turned and hobbled back toward the bed.

Roman didn't quite know what to say,  but he didn't think the truth would be very productive. That he kept these sort of tidbits on his life quiet for a reason, to make it harder to pinpoint where came from or what he was. 

“Very well,” Roman heaved or in mock exasperation,  like he was being asked to do something beneath him,  but he was only teasing. “I suppose I could be a little more honest.” His hand faded back to the normal flesh of his human form and he walked inside. 

“How's your thigh?”

“Sore.  But don’t bleed no more.  Give’t a few hours and it will be at least tolerable.  I heal pretty fast, and that’s without the sexy time healing.” He said with a nod as he fell back on the bed, resting on his elbows.  

“I’ll be okay.  Certainly ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to me.  What’s a little knife in the leg anyway?” He joked. Honestly he was quite proud of his new collection of scars and this leg wound would only be one more badge of honor.  

“...thanks for askin’ though.”

Roman rolled his eyes at the casual way in which Brock took pain, but then, physical pain was standable compared to others, he supposed. Brock was still hurting emotionally, he could see it in his eyes, taste it in his presence. It was the sort of thing Roman fed off, in a way; betrayal, chaos, the hurt that resulted from sliding in just between that delicate cavern of what you wanted and what you needed.

“Yeah, uh huh. I know you can take pain, sunshine.” He smiled pleasantly. Their sex was usually not sweet and gentle in the past.

“Hey... Do you have a talisman or something? From the crime scene or whatever.” Roman shrugged like it was no big deal.

Brock did hide his emotional pain sometimes.  He’d only recently come to the terms that Adam would never love him again.  He still heard the hateful words Logan said to him before his death. And every day he dealt with the fact that Nan found him to be a disappointment.  So he had wanted to keep everyone at arms length because he didn’t want to hurt anymore. And yet this trip with Roman only made him want to be around him more, even though he knew it couldn’t and shouldn’t end well.  He just wanted to be wanted. But he’d always been lost like that. 

He grinned and shrugged at the playful suggestive tone Roman took when he mentioned he knew he could take pain.  “You really don’t know at all.” He said sheepishly. There was another even more deviant side to Brock he’d not shown Roman because he wasn’t comfortable enough with him, but then who knows. Maybe one day?  

“Uh… that pentagram necklace?” He nodded at the nightstand the little necklace he’d discarded after that first night.  If only because it was a minor clue in a mystery he’d already mostly solved. 

“Why?”

“I don’t?” Roman wondered, looking mildly curious as his eyes dragged up Brock’s body, inch by inch. Nothing much would shock him; he’d be a shitty demon of his species if it did, but still, he wondered what particular brand of deviance haunted Brock.

“Oh yeah, that!” He smiled and walked over, reaching for it and pretending to look overly fond of it. “I remember thinking it was cute,” came the easy lie, even as he hooked it around his neck, it didn’t seem to suit it. Because it didn’t, really. His world had no relation to it, but he had to keep it as close as possible, so he tucked it into his shirt.

“So… Are we going hunter-hunting tonight? After we give your thigh more time.”

“Not yet.” Was Brock’s only response to Roman asking for sure if he didn’t know the depths of his deviance, leaving it open ended for the young demon to take it as he may.  Instead the conversation shifted to something more mundane (as it always did).

“Uh huh…” Brock raised an eyebrow and nodded.  Roman seemed like he was trying too hard with that but he also figured maybe it was something demonic he didn’t want to share with Brock right now.  Maybe it was some sort of heirloom or whatever. He nodded and watched as he put it on and it just looked strange, even for a demon. Maybe because it was too tongue in cheek or something.  

“Yeah.  I don’t think he’ll be’s easy to distract this time though so… we’ll see what happens.” He nodded, looking over at Roman as he rubbed said thigh gently with his thumb.  

“Jus’ gotta find’m first.”

“ _ Yeahhh _ and as nice of a picture as it is to think about you two making out, I’m not interested in watching you try to distract him again.” Roman frowned a little at Brock, but he mostly tried to pretend it didn’t bother him because… Why should it?

“I’m sure he won’t be too hard to track down, anyway. Not with the grudge match you two have.” He didn’t really know what sort of person Connor was; whether he held grudges or let things slide, but the latter just seemed unlikely, so he speculated on the first. 

“How about I go snag us some food from across the street while you rest? And then we’ll make a gameplan for how to take him down.” Roman had fought people before, but admittedly… Never a hunter. Not even Brock, not really. It was always relatively playful, even at their worst moments. But he was a  _ demon _ , he could handle it, right? And besides… Idly, his hand raised to touch the necklace. “I’ll be back in like ten minutes, tops.”

Brock watched Roman’s face as he mentioned Brock making out with Connor, then a little smirk crossed his face as he cocked his head to the side.  Roman was jealous. And he was pretty shitty at hiding it. It was sweet for a moment there. 

“Jealousy is kind of a cute look for you, Ro.” He said in a joking manner.

“Eh if anythin’ he’s holding a grudge for it’s that I stabbed him ‘nstead of actually sleepin’ with him.  But I guess that’s valid.” He shrugged. Who knows, maybe Connor would have some jealousy issues of his own, in which case Brock would feel SUPER awesome about himself for two seconds before he… y’know… had to kill him for being a psychotic murderer.

Brock raised an eyebrow to Roman when he suggested he leave to get food.  He kept leaving. He was definitely up to something. Maybe he should follow him?  He’d be a shitty hunter if he didn’t follow his gut.

But at the same time it could just be Roman being sweet and trying to take care of him, so he was unsure of which path to follow.  

“Uh… yeah. That’d be nice.” He nodded, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist,  giving him a gentle little tug for a moment. 

“Be careful? I know I keep sayin’ that just… yeah…” He nodded.  He didn’t have to repeat his fears for Roman now that he had to worry about Connor. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Roman teased, smiling. He’d probably be mad too if someone stabbed him instead of fucked him, but he couldn’t really imagine he was in the minority on that one.

And then a laugh, A too loud laugh. A ‘ha that’s obviously true but whatever’ sort of laugh. “Oh please, I’m  _ not  _ jealous.” It was nearly a huff; just a glimmer of his own egotistical self in school. That shallow little gossip who thought he was the best thing in the universe.

He paused when his wrist was grabbed and glanced to Brock, smile fading slightly.

“I will. It’s just across the street, okay?” One hand reached out to pat Brock’s shoulder reassuringly, but he didn’t linger. He had a hunter to get killed and he really didn’t want Brock getting in the way of the Old One just in case he had some last minute bout of a conscience. With a new sort of resolve, he moved toward the door. “Be right back!”

And out he went, heading across the street to at least check out the menu.

Brock gave a little smile and watched him walk out the door, before clicking off the lamp and hobbling over to the window, watching the boy walk across the street like he said he would.  Not that he didn’t trust him. He just wanted to make sure he was okay. And also maybe he did suspect something else strange was up, but he let it slide. Brock was being crazy, so he shrugged to himself and closed the curtain before hobbling back over to the bed and switching on the tv.

But there was something else.  Once the scene had played out, he emerged from the shadows and slipped around the corner.  Connor had seen everything, the intimate touches after that boy, Roman, transformed his hand into some sort of a claw.  That’s what he was hiding. Roman was one of  _ them _ . He had to die, but he could also be used to hurt Brock.  Connor felt like he’d been handed a gift, and now he just had to find the time to strike.  

Roman waited at the restaurant just long enough that he figured Brock might no longer be watching him, though he was vaguely curious if Brock would follow him or not. If he did, well… That might put a wrench in his plan a little, but in the meantime, he wanted to see how this talisman thing worked in anticipation of Connor.

So, he dipped out of line for food, even though he  _ was _ starting to get a little hungry, and wandered just around the corner, pulling out the necklace and examining it thoughtfully. Maybe it was activated by blood? 

“Should’ve come with instructions,” he grumbled to himself, and then nothing. Everything went black...

 


	13. Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely, otherworldly ally shows up to lend a hand in a climactic battle with the murderer.

When he woke up, it was with a start, his head hurt and his vision took a moment to adjust. This was not the room he’d been staying in with Brock, but it was familiar…

He was back at that house. Roman blinked and sat up a little straighter. “...Brock?”

Connor flipped a chair around and sat backwards in it in front of Roman, cocking his head to the side.  

“You’d like that, I’m sure.” He laughed, reaching forward and giving him a little slap on the cheek. He remained seated and pulled out his infamous knife and scratched it lazily along the back of the chair as he looked over him with a predatory stare.

“Don’t worry though.  He’ll come for ya. In fact the only reason he wouldn’t _fuck_ me… well… aside from our obvious difference in opinion on things… is because he’s so goddamn smitten  with you. And THAT… I just don’t get, you know?” He said, his fist clasping harshly around the handle of the knife.

“Cuz you’re a demon.” He said, moving the knife over to Roman’s neck, letting the cold metal gently kiss the flesh it found there.

“A filthy, evil, piece of shit demon that doesn’t deserve the time it would take me to slit your throat.” He said with a hiss.  Then he gave a little shrug and sat back.

“But that will come.  First we wait for Brock.   This will all be so much more fun when he’s here.”

Roman leaned away from the knife a little, looking wary, but his gaze was a little more telling Connor to chill than actually afraid. There was a point when he had been, when he thought Connor might sway Brock against him, but now… He had a better alliance. If only he knew how it worked.

When the knife went away, though, that’s when he opened his mouth, not even trying to hide his cockiness that Brock ‘chose’ him. “Wow, you don’t have to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, what you think this is about him? No, he was a convenience at that point.  It was just nice to have someone like me around, sex would have been a bonus. What I don’t get is why he denies who he is for what? _You_? Because I get the feeling you weren’t always the ‘winner.’ At least if I remember correctly from our conversation the other day you were nestled comfortable barely making second place, right?” He smirked to himself.

“I just wanted someone to learn from. Who I could understand. Instead I get a bleeding heart liberal who sympathizes with the bastards that took my family.”

As intended, Roman was sure, the words struck a _nerve_. His expression darkened -- really darkened -- just for a moment as the green of his eyes faded into the same glassy black his skin had.

“Cry me a fucking river, your parents are dead. Get over it. You’re the one ruining families now so I don’t give a shit about your sob story, and neither does anyone else.” Roman smirked, inhaling a whiff of the sins dripping off Connor.

“Oh, but you like it don’t you? All the killing. Makes you feel powerful because you’re just a tiny speck of a human with daddy issues. Using your parents as a guise to be a serial killer,” he tisked, kicking the chair out from under Connor, laughing. “You’re no better than us just because you kill us, sweet little Connor.”

Connor watched the eyes change color and gave an amused expression on his face. As if that were the first time he’d ever seen a spooky monster face before.  And when the boy started talking, Connor began to laugh, maniacally and uncontrollably for a few moments.

‘ _Families?_ Is that what we call a group of your kind, festering together like a group of goddamn maggots? You’re supposed to be the _family_ now? That’s hilarious. Tell another one.” Connor chuckled.  The chair was kicked from underneath him and he fell back for a moment before standing, brushing off his pants as he circled back around Roman.

“As a matter of fact, _I AM._ ” He said in a stern voice as he backhanded Roman so violently the chair he was stuck in fell over, the force of his own supernatural strength knocking him back.  He crawled on the floor and caressed Roman’s hair condescendingly before he pulled the chair back up.

“Because every one of you I take out I save another little boy or girl from having to go what I went through. I’m possibly literally doing God’s work here.”

As he was set up straight again, he leaned away from Connor’s touch again, looking amused. “God’s work. I’d think you were precious if you weren’t such an idiot.” Behind him, his claw was extending, the sharp edges of his own hand cutting through the rope that fastened him to the chair.

“Let me see if I can help you work some of your issues, hm?” Roman breathed in deep, channeling one of his ancestors to reach out and see if they could deliver a voice to him. Connor’s father’s filtered through Roman’s own mouth, very distinctly. “Connor, you should be ashamed.”

It was a distraction while he finished cutting though, and as soon as he did, Roman was standing and swinging the chair around hard into Connor’s side, his own strength _nearly_ a match for the inhuman strength of a hunter. But he didn’t stop for a fight, just used the opportunity to run and try to get a moment alone with this talisman.

Connor clenched his teeth, jaw muscles flexing as he became enraged.  It was _not_ okay that this filthy fucking demon was talking as his father.  His father was a great man. A hero to him. And furthermore, he would think his father would be just fine with his actions.  His fist tightened and he swung, but was surprised by the chair slamming into him, knocking him over and shattering to pieces as he hit the ground.  He lifted his shirt and already saw his ribs turning purple from the impact.

The boy ran.  He flipped to his feet and gave chase, though his rage got the better of him and he swung too early, lodging his fist into the wall, slowing him down once more.  When he turned the corner, it was a dead end hallway with five doors, all closed. No Roman. He grunted and shook his head.

“So we’re gonna play this game, are we?” He said, slowly pacing down the hall.  

“I don’t know why you run.  I mean, what good are you hoping to come by anyway? Planning on settling down in a quaint little house with _Brock_?” He mocked him, kicking open the first door.  One of the bedrooms. Empty. He clicked his jaw and looked around to see if anything was moving in the dark.  It was not.

“Guy like Brock don’t settle down.  He’s broken. Just like me. He fucks what he wants when he wants and casts you aside when you are no longer useful…” Another kick.  Another empty room. “...sounds like from our little diner talk you already knew that though. Your usefulness has run out before. How much more time you think your lil’ demonic magic tricks gonna buy you before you’re boring again?”

He paced further down the hall, pulling his knife back out, scratching it along the walls loudly as he walked.  “And then there’s that. You’re _always_ gonna be a demon.  Eventually he’s going to _have_ to kill you if I don’t.  Because you may think you’re harmless now, but you’ll turn…” Kicked in another door.  Walk in closet. Empty.

“All of you turn eventually…”

Roman bit his lip,  forcing himself not to listen to the all too true words ringing down the hallway. They were thoughts that he'd considered before,  here and there, but they weighed on him. Especially the last.

“Fuck, how does this -” He blinked, realizing something.  “I need his blood.” Roman glanced down at the necklace, frowning _hoping_ that whatever he had to do now was done by the time Brock found them.  He didn't want Brock to see him like this… teeth sharpening, claws extending and very slowly,  the blackened skin from his hands would spread over his body of he didn't hurry.

Silently,  he waited for Connor to kick open his door and then immediately lunged at him as he did,  slamming him back into the wall of the hallway and punching him with a fist that felt like sharp, jagged rocks.

Connor approached the last two doors, one on each side of the hallway and gazed back and forth at each one all the while whistling [that song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v9BPxHBogs) from Kill Bill in a slowed down, eerie fashion.  He had him cornered now. All he had to do was play with him. He moved the knife to one door, scratching little patterns against it as he held his ear to it before finally shaking his head to himself.

“No no… must be behind…” As he kicked in the door. But what he did not expect was a hulking form of Roman fully transformed knocking him back with a powerful fist, punching him in the ribs in a way that made a crack and caused him to cough a little, maybe the faintest bit of blood.  He growled and started stabbing furiously as he was held against the wall, wherever he could, though it was tough and his knife felt like it was barely going in, as if he was stabbing a slab of rock. But he still felt it go in, it still stabbed, just not as effectively as he wanted.  He’d have to think of another way.

Desperate to get out of the hold, he went for the sissy move and kicked him in the balls before hobbling away, putting some distance between them before turning.  He needed to go for the soft parts. The eyes, the mouth…

Angry that Connor had gotten away from him didn’t even begin to sum up this other Roman’s reaction, one hand sinking easily into the wall and pulling with it a chunk of the interior of the house. He hurled it at Connor, bearing his sharp teeth, dark eyes narrowed to see if it landed its mark or not.

His chest was singing to him, but not enough to impede his movements. They were cuts that currently didn’t bleed; they’d sting far more later than they did right now. But even more importantly, Connor had coughed up blood onto his shoulder. Roman lifted a hand to wipe it off, sucking some off his fingers (hunters tasted _so_ sweet) and wiping the rest over the talisman.

“I suggest you run,” he warned, but only because he knew that would disgust the Old One that much more.

Connor saw the chunk of drywall flying in his direction and quickly performed a roundhouse kick, smashing it midair.

“Running is for pussies.” He scoffed, rearing his knife back and throwing it, aiming for Roman’s eye. It would have hit, impaling through his socket into his brain too, if it weren’t for the other object flying through the air.  A glint of silver in the moonlight. A clang of metal hitting metal as the knife flew into the floorboard and stuck up while another knife stuck out of the wall. A silver dagger.

“For once, gotta say I agree.” A deep, boyish southern voice came from behind. Connor turned to see the golden blond hair and deep blue eyes shimmering in the light of the moon. Brock was there, shit eating grin on his face.  He looked over Connor’s shoulder to see the hulking demon skulking around the shadows, but he could tell with just one look into his eyes who it was. It was who he came to protect after all.

“It’s one thing to mess with me.  It’s a whole nother thing’t mess with the people I care bout.” He said, moving into a defensive stance as he approached Connor.

“So whaddya say, Con? Want that dance?”

Connor looked smug enough, pleased that his plan worked because for a moment, he was thinking he might not get two birds for one stone. “Took you long enough. Still limping?”

He didn’t wait for a response, though, as he hurled two more knives in Brock’s direction and rushed toward him, arm drawn back, swinging a wild arching haymaker in his direction. One of these was bound to hit the mark, and Connor didn’t care which.

Roman shifted back once the hunters seemed invested enough in each other, slinking back into the room he’d been hiding in and lifting his shirt to check the cuts along his stomach.

Brock narrowly jumped out of the way of the daggers, both hitting the wall behind him, though one sliced open his arm.  He winced before seeing Connor’s arms swinging toward him, and was met with a powerful thrust backward as he flew against the wall, feeling it crack underneath his back.  Connor approached and had him pinned against the wall, so Brock just brought his thick legs up and gripped him on either side like a vice and launched off the wall, pinning him to the floor.

“Fancy bein’n this position again, lover.” He said in a sinister tone as he reared his fist back and punched him one, two, three times in the face, each time pulling back a bloodier hand.  He pulled back for a fourth, but found he was unable to release another. He felt a hand grip the back of his neck as well as his fist and lift him off the ground.

“You are not the one.” She said, smelling his hair before tossing him to the ground.  The Old One looked down at Connor and scanned him much like a Lioness would watch over a gazelle before attacking.  

“He is the one.” She said.  Brock wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, or what he should do.  Save Connor? Let him go? He thought first and asked questions later as he launched forward to attack the new contender.  But he was stopped midair in what seemed like a telekinetic force. She turned and looked at him, as if she were bored of him.  

“I said you are not the one, dog.  Tend to your mutt.” She said in a deadpan tone before flicking her wrist, sending Brock crashing through the drywall and sliding to Roman’s feet the next room over.

“Now time for your judgement, small one.”

Roman jumped at first when Brock came crashing through the wall,  but quickly scrambled to his side, putting a hand to his arm to see if he was okay,  but of course he was. It was Brock.

“Just… Let her,” he said lowly to the other boy. “I did this.  So you wouldn't have to…” It was a demons sort of gesture of affection,  anyway, that calling someone else or killing another person so that the object of their affection didn't have to might mean something.  He didn't see what might seem off about it.

Connor, though,  had clearly never seen anything like the Old One, but still reeling from the punches, he could barely see much.  He propped himself up a little, grabbing at the last knife in his holster. “Who the fuck are you,” he sputtered, bloodily.

The Old One cocked her head to the other side, still staring at the wounded hunter in a dead, unblinking stare.  It was always so refreshing when the young ones didn’t know her. Hadn’t heard of her even. Still, explaining who she was was truly the fun part.

“I am a god from the darkest dimensions of hell.  I am the mother of all of the damned. Oldest of Hell Gods in the Outer Pantheon. And I can assure you, my natural state is not as pleasant to your human eyes.” She said as she reached down and scooped Connor up by the neck, gazing deeply into his eyes.  The room flashed, as if lightning had struck nearby but there was no storm that night. In each flash of light, Connor was given a vision of her true self. A tall mass of writhing tentacles, towering several stories in the air, dripping slime over a barren wasteland.  Giant, gaping, fanged mouths, dozens littered across her torso. Giant, putrid, rotting goats legs supporting her from the bottom. Random eyes of every shape and color buried underneath the tentacles. It was a cloudy mess that was confusing and horrifying for a simple human to comprehend and yet she forced the visions into his brain.

“I have been summoned to have you judged by the Outer Gods of hell…” She said as the floorboards beneath her feet began to buck and crack, an eerie orange glow coming from below.  Chains shot out of the walls and the floor and wrapped around his limbs, hoisting him into the air. She still remained emotionless as she watched.

“You’ve strayed from your righteous path.  Murdered dozens of innocents. You’ve surrendered your soul to us, and now we will tear it apart.” She hissed as the chains began to tighten and pull, stretching his muscles thin, glowing orange as they slowly started to sear his skin.

“Any last words before you leave this realm?”

Brock could hear the ruckus, the swirling winds, the buckling of the floor, and for the first time in his life… he was _terrified_. He’d never experienced an Old One either, and her mere presence made his gut sink.  Roman said he did it for him, and he didn’t know whether to thank him or… Well he didn’t care at this moment.  In a rare change of character, he wrapped his arms around Roman and buried his head against his shoulder as if to hide when the wind began to swirl and the room began to glow.  

Connor yelled, his outbursts stemming from so many channels he couldn’t even fathom which depths they pulled from. He was angry, he was hurting, he was in pain and ashamed; he wanted to ask forgiveness but was too stubborn and disgusted to do so. As the burning and stretching continued, he just yelled out louder, and in a final act of defiance mustered out a “FUCK YOU,” to the Old One that was basically just a whimper as he felt his limbs sever from his body slowly, drawing agonizing screams as they did.

Roman didn’t seem bothered by the screaming, but he realized, in hindsight, with the usually strong hunter curling into him, that perhaps the human might’ve been. He wrapped one arm around him and lowered his voice very gently, “Just look at me, Brock,” as if it keep his attention, catching his gaze, but it wasn’t his gaze that would help lull Brock into a feeling of safety, it was his voice, something deeper, and melodic coating the underside of every word like a poisoned dart. “Right in my eyes.”

The twisting of chains and tearing of limbs littered the surrounding room with blood and viscera, a splash of blood streaking the Old One’s face as she remained unblinking.  

“Unimpressive.” She reacted to his ‘final words.’ But even in his demise, the Outer Pantheon would not forgive the loss of even a pound of flesh, a droplet of blood.  Every part of Connor belonged to them now. So as the room grew brighter and the chains dragged the attached parts into the cracks of the Earth from whence they came, the splatters of blood started to swirl and dissipate, cleaning it’s own mess as if they were never there.  

Brock shook.  He could hear the chains.  The screaming. Smell the burning flesh of the other hunter.  All things he should be used to. And yet there was an otherworldly aura to the air that shook him to his core, that he just couldn’t get past.  It reminded him of his place in the universe. He was only a small soldier on the frontline. Whatever that… thing was in the other room was something more.  Something that he could never hope to grasp. But he felt a hand cup his face, Roman’s voice comforting him. _Him._ Who was supposed to be a mystical superhero that was now just a skittish poodle.  

“O-ok….” He drew in a breath and looked into Roman’s green eyes and let himself be comforted by the warmth he found there.  The sound, the swirling stopped. He could feel the being staring at the back of his neck, his hair standing on end. The Old One just offered what could be interpreted as some sort of demonic smile before throwing her head back and screeching.  Not in pain, like an otherworldly battlecry. And it faded into nothing. She was gone for now. Brock’s shoulders relaxed as he still looked into his eyes.

“That was… crazy…”

“Yeah…” Roman agreed, the otherworldly feel of his voice dissipating as he no longer needed to hold Brock’s attention. The Old One was gone, and hopefully that was the last he’d see of her, but he did offer a tiny smile at Brock, hoping the hunter wasn’t upset with him for what he’d done.

“Are you okay?”

Brock turned around and looked about, hand still nervously clenching Roman’s shirt.  The holes in the walls from their battle was still there, loose drywall flapping as the air dissipated from the supernatural disturbance moments before.  Brock’s heart still beat heavy. He’d fought monsters before but this was the first being that really made him question his mortality, and she barely did anything but look at him in a frightening manner.

He turned back to Roman to try and respond to his question.  He had so many things he wanted to say. _Why did you not tell me about this? How long did you know? You could have been killed!_ Amongst other things swirled about in his head.  But instead his body reacted in a knee-jerk response and did something that he felt would get his annoyance, concern, and worriedness across without much explanation.  

He pulled him in and kissed him.  A little more harsh than in the motel a few nights ago, but enough desperation to let him know he was glad he was safe.  And after a moment, he pulled away and patted his chest, not acknowledging the kiss.

“Let’s go home.”

The kiss surprised him enough that he barely returned it, and was left blinking and catching up when Brock pulled away like it was nothing. Roman cleared his throat, brushing it off the same way and scrambled to get up from the spot in the increasingly destroyed house.

Home though, while he’d missed it, brought up a few worries. Maybe this was it for them now? This little moonlight adventure was over, and when they got home, maybe Brock would just go back to trying to win Adam back or just -

Connor’s words echoed in his mind and Roman glanced away from Brock. “Yeah, let’s go.

 


	14. Goodnight Hellspawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the case is closed, Brock and Roman find themselves at a hopeful crossroads with their relationship.

They arrived back at the motel, because if they were leaving they might as well get their stuff.  Brock contemplated just taking the rest of the night off and driving back in the morning, but he wasn’t sure how much longer either of them wanted to be in this town. 

Also the drive was super silent because of reasons he supposed.  Ever since he impulsively kissed him. But that’s what he’d wanted to do in that moment.  He was happy he was safe. And Brock was… impulsive.

They’d gotten back and Brock started shoveling clothes into his bag with absolutely no grace.  He traveled light so it didn’t make a difference. He just silently watched Roman out of the corner of his eye for a few moments before snapping his bag closed and leaning back against the dresser.

“You… gon’ be alright?”

Roman wasn’t packing with much more grace, though he was moving slower because he was lost in his thoughts. Thoughts drifting from Brock to his parents; they’d smell her on him, he was sure. Or the char of skin, at least. His mother would. She’d smell Brock too, likely, even if there wasn’t actually as much there to report as she might figure - or was there? It wasn’t the carnal things that bothered her, really. It was the stuff he shouldn’t be doing, like glancing over him now, or caring about him, or hoping Brock would still talk to him when they got back to town.

“Yeah,” he lied. “I’ll be fine. I was just thinking about -” a less easy lie, and he shrugged. “Just thinking about home. My brother’s probably loved having it all to himself.”

Brock smirked and gave a little nod, knowing he was probably half lying.  He still moved over and picked up a few things for Roman and helped him pack.  

“His loss then.” He said sincerely.  It’d been really nice spending this time together.  They made a great team, even without the underlying tension.  He was thankful to have had someone to talk to for the first time in months.  

“So… what ya gon’ do when we get back home?” He asked, making small talk, really just wanting to help Roman talk through whatever was on his mind.  He knew he was a stubborn man, not unlike Brock himself. Sometimes a little trickery and a kind ear was necessary. Of course, he had ideas about some of the things that bothered him, but the last time that was openly on the table, Roman stopped talking for the night.  He’d wait until he decided to bring it up.

At the comments of his brother, Roman just gave a quiet smile, and they quickly finished shoving all his stuff into his back fast enough with both of them helping.

“Not sure,” he replied, shrugging. “Apologize to coach, probably. Get chewed out. Hit the gym a lot.” They were passive, boring answers Roman knew but the truth was, he had no idea where they stood and he wasn’t about to beg Brock to keep him around, even if he wanted to stay around. Honestly, it was probably best if they _did_ stop speaking after this…

“And you’re supposed to take that vacation, right?” Roman smirked, having not forgotten his dare.

Brock just gave a little shrug and chewed on his lip at the suggestion that he had the vacation to take. “I dunno, I should prolly show’p to school for at _least_ a few weeks.” He said with a nod.  Then with a little smirk, he playfully slug Roman on the arm.  

“I did mean it when I said you should come.  I uh… I know this trip has been filled with awkwardness’n terror but… it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.” He smiled, taking a moment for Roman to respond.  Of course, there was awkwardness, but… he was being honest. He was happy to have someone around to talk to.

Roman considered it with a laugh. “What would we even _do_ , Brock?” He was almost waving it off, but not cruelly, just… Obviously hesitant. He’d been enjoying himself here, but reality was settling in quickly.

“I’d just get you into trouble. I’ve a talent for it, don’t I?” Roman grinned, as if they both didn’t have a talent for trouble in general. He swung his bag over one shoulder, ready to go.

“I donno, go to a beach? Drive round the country? Act like a couple’a normal guys for once ‘stead of two people wit’ destinies over they heads they not sure how to control?” Brock said with a shrug. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d thought about these things.  At his further comments, he just snickered and shrugged.

“I’m always in some kinda trouble, I ain’t never minded it.” He said, giving Roman’s shoe a playful little kick.

“Half the school still thinks I OD’d on meth last year when I was in the hospital.  Do I really care bout bein’ in any kinda trouble, ya think?”

“ _Apparently_ not,” Roman teased back with a smile. “You’re hanging out with a demon and asking him to go on vacation with you.” The beach sounded nice, though. Or a drive. Or… Anywhere that was far away, but not too far.

“Even if I am a mutt,” he grumbled, thinking about the Old One’s way of referring to him. He wasn’t exactly insulted - it made him relatively unique. But there was still the sighs of tension he could feel at the family reunions and all.

“So are we leaving?”

“Yeah. _And?_ ” Brock responded to Roman mentioning asking a _demon_ to go on vacation with him, as if it were a bad thing.  Demons were just people honestly. Maybe not human, but people nonetheless.  Brock was many things, but bigoted he was not, or at least tried not to be.

“You don’ haveta say yes right now but… just know it’s a serious offer if’n you want.” He said with a shrug.  

“I… I donno.  Paid for the night, might’s well leave in the mornin’.  Make’t an even day, be home by tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Roman said, pausing to look at his rushed packing job. “I guess that makes more sense.” But he was packed now,  so he just discarded the bag beside his bed and sat down, looking up at Brock from the new angle he'd placed him in.

Quietly, he promised, “...I'll think about it.”

Brock offered a little half smile, pleased with the other boy’s answer.

“Good. I’ll need someone’t drive the getaway car.” He joked as he gave Roman a small, playful kick. He looked at him for a few moments before speaking up again.

“All things aside, are ya okay? I mean… looked like ya guys were rumblin’ by the time I got there.” He said, noting all the smashed in walls that he’d seen.

Roman snorted.  “Planning to get into trouble,  Brock?” he teased, as if trouble wasn't Brock's specialty by this point.

“Yeah, I'm fine -” Physically.  “- He mostly monologues and tried to play mind games,  but we all know _I'm_ the kind of those,  so.” Roman shrugged, not quite meeting Brock's eye, slipping into silence again until he blurted out: “Do you think you'll try to win Adam back?  ...I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to about him but… you were happy.”

Brock took a deep breath for a moment. Yeah, he _was_ happy, but he was also naive. There were a lot of impossible things keeping him and Adam apart even when they were together. Adam’s family made sure of making the relationship difficult every chance they got because they thought of Brock as a gross distraction more than anything.

“I already tried.” He shrugged. “He broke my nose first’f all. Threw a chair at my face. Said every hateful thing I’ve thought bout myself.  Then he went’t prom and slept wit that Jessica chick. After that I just kinda ‘cepted it.” He shrugged once more and sat next to Roman.

“I told him I was sorry, but thing is… I donno’f I am really.” He looked down at his kicking feet and chewed on his lower lip. “I didn’t sleep witcha just cuz. I did it because I felt somethin’. Even if me’n Adam were to magically get back together, I would _still_ feel somethin’. It’s better this way really. Less complicated for everybody.

Roman watched Brock carefully, wondering if now was even the right time to bring something like that up. It hurt him to listen to what had happened after everything, and for once, Roman didn’t like hearing the chain reaction of negative events that he’d had a hand in causing. There wasn’t a satisfaction there that would normally have fed some darker part of himself. Instead, he felt a little more hungry; hopeful, maybe, but that was dangerous, wasn’t it?

Less complicated? He didn’t know if he agreed with that, but maybe he did believe that Adam and Brock weren’t best suited for each other. Roman reached out hesitantly and patted Brock’s thigh, the gesture meant to be comforting but it came out stunted and broken, like a stiff hug from someone who wasn’t used to comforting someone. Not untrue, but he knew he was capable when he felt there was less pressure to do so.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh, and Roman cracked a smiled that wasn’t exactly pleasant so much as understanding. “There’s not a lot of happily ever afters for people like you. Or me.” That was a reality. His parents were lucky, but rarities.

“Maybe not. But then ‘gain, life’s short. Mine is anyway if’n I’m gonna be huntin’ monsters the rest my days. So if ya get a lil bit’a happiness, even if it don’t end well, ya gotta take it ya know?” He said with a nod. He didn’t regret his time with Adam. It helped him grow as a person and taught him a lot about himself he didn’t know. Truly he had done a 180 from who he was before.

He reached down and placed his hand on top of Roman’s that rested on his thigh. “For instance, I never realized how happy I was’t know you was alive until tonight. So… little things.”

Roman didn't pull away but he did laugh out a sad little noise, muffled and maybe a little panicked as he tipped over to bump Brock's shoulder playfully. “Why do you have to be so sweet,  hm?”

It was easier when Brock was an asshole.

“Oh I’m not sweet really. I’m still’n asshole. Just wit’ more experience. A _worldly_ asshole, ya might say.” He chuckled as he looked over at the other boy, a little half smile on his face.

“I’m glad ya came ‘long, hellspawn.” He said in a sincere tone, the hellspawn sounding more like a term of endearment now than it used to.

“Worldly asshole,” Roman snorted.  “You're full of shit. That's what you are.” But it was a tease,  his sly little grin said as much as he turned to regard Brock more closely,  expression unbearable.

“Me too. It was nice to get it of house and stuff. I know you didn't ask me because you wanted to but,  thanks anyway.”

“Honestly?” Brock gave a sheepish look and shrugged a bit as he spoke.

“When I thought’t was those kids an’ I knew I’d need your help, I was lookin’ forward to havin’ a reason to talk to you again. So much shit happened an’ things were awkward and it was nice to be able to break the ice like that again.”  That sounded so strange, Brock being mean and telling him he had to help kill these demon kids was an ice breaker? But it was true. He still thought about Roman a lot, was sad about how things went down. He didn’t know how to talk to him before.  But now things seemed better.

“I mean, I invited ya out again, didn’t I? Don’t be so tough on yaself.”

Roman looked increasingly amused as Brock spoke, but he stayed quiet up until the last bit,  then laughed. “Invited me out again?” That sounded so odd with the context. “This was quite possibly the weirdest date I've ever been on. In that case.” Another tease,  but he smirked this time.

Brock gave a grin and leaned forward, tapping his finger against Roman’s nose as he called his bluff.

“Fine. Then I’ll take ya out on a real one.” He said in a tone that said he was teasing but also completely serious.  “Flowers, shitty movie, cheap food. Less ya wanna go monster huntin’ again cuz I mean… that’s my job so no shortage there.”

“No,  no, I want to hear more about this apparent wooing I'm getting now,” it was said playfully but Roman was entirely serious,  the vain side of him unable to resist any chance to preen. “The right kind of flowers might just get you blown in the back of the theater.” _That_ was a tease - mostly.  They both knew Roman was not beyond such things.

“A hunter wooing a demon.  We're a shitty YA novel.” It was probably the closest,  most definitive answer he'd given to thoughts of a future with Brock so far,  to either of them.

“Well I guess that begs the question’t what ya favorite flowers are?” He chuckled a bit, biting his lip as he looked at him.  It seemed they’d both loosened up a bit for the first time in a while.

“So what you’re sayin’ is… it’s _working_?” He teased, reaching down once more and squeezing his hand.

“Seriously though… I’m actually one hundred percent askin’ ya out for real. Weird I know.” He smiled for a moment, thumb grazing over the back of Roman’s hand. Then after a bit of hesitation, he leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth, not trying to force anything. But at the same time, he meant what he said about his life being too short. He was done dancing around things. Both of them nearly died tonight. And he couldn’t feel sorry for himself about Adam forever.

Roman flashed an evil little smile and shook his head,  indicative enough that he wasn't giving it knowledge of his favorite flower so easily.  Truthfully, he didn't have one. Any flowers might earn Brock the same reward; it was all about the gesture now.

Feeling a little more like himself,  suddenly confident in Brock's affection maybe,  Roman actually turned enough to kiss him fully, hand sliding teasingly slow up his thigh.  It was bit of a burning gesture, he knew, since it was doubtful Brock had been with anyone recently and that was probably hard as fuck for him,  but still, Roman wouldn't be Roman without a little bit of a game attached.

So,  he broke the kiss and his hand stopped just short of its obvious destination, and in a weird agreement to the date he leaned forward,  placing both their foreheads together and said, “You can have the rest if it's a good date.” Which was silly, really. He knew it would be,  his tiny little smile said as much.

Brock felt the hand slide up his thigh and he felt the blood rush down below. Before long an obvious bulge would appear, but Roman suddenly stopped and broke the kiss. Brock just rolled his eyes, but not before grabbing Roman by the collar and stealing one more not as innocent kiss.  

“An’ this’s why I should slay you.” He teased, but didn’t mean it. Truthfully, he was looking forward to a date. One that didn’t come with the stipulation that they had to hide or drive to a restaurant three towns over just in case somebody saw.  Still, he fell back on the bed and covered his face with his arm.

“Well’f we try now we can still catch a nap for a few hours ‘fore we make’t back to O’cock.” He said with a little grunt, kicking off his shoes.

“Now you're in trouble because I _definitely_ know you'd miss me,” Roman said with a snicker,  but he did flop down beside Brock and then roll over to kiss his forehead,  apparently so pleased with the decision to be open with his affection that he felt the need to partake in simple gestures almost immediately.

“Goodnight Brock.”

“Yeah yeah…” Brock chuckled. He was right. Brock had affection for the boy. He should have known this for a while now.  Still when the other curled up next to him and kissed him on the forehead, his heart jumped. It was exciting and new and familiar all at the same time.  So he leaned over and turned off the lamp and then pulled the blanket over the both of them before wrapping one of his large arms around Roman, kissing his cheek just below his ear.

“Night Hellspawn.” He said as he nuzzled against him


	15. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Roman finally go on their long awaited date, but as with everything in their life, it doesn't go as planned.

It had been a few days since they’d returned home, returned to school. Things were… normalish? Except for now they texted and talked online in a playful way. Things weren’t so angry or bleak. It was… fun. They were allowing themselves to be teenagers and not hunters and demons for once. 

It was a Friday night when Brock pulled up to his house. He texted Roman beforehand and let him know he was there, and he got out of his truck and produced a small bunch of flowers. He promised him he’d give him the whole cheesy date experience and he kept his word. They were Blue Stargazer Lilies, because roses were extremely dull and at least these flowers were colorful and weird like Roman.

God, they were really doing this. He was dating Roman. Or at least going on a date with Roman. It seemed Brock had a type, which was bratty guys he used to despise. But he was excited to say the least.  So he perched on his front step and waited for him to come to the door. 

It has felt like the longest week ever leading up to their date, but Roman had supplemented himself with stupid texts to Brock, staying up way too late and getting a nice little slice of life teenager feeling that was so new and tempting to him.

When Brock text him, he rushed to the door, only to stop just short of throwing it open to promptly find some chill and pretend like he  _ hadn’t _ been rushing. Roman calmed himself, exhaled a little breath, and then opened the door. Despite finding a better sense of self, however, he could not help but grin when he saw the other boy.

And then… Nothing? He had nothing to say, even as his eyes lit up at the flowers (ha, Brock actually brought him flowers!), and just the general idea of the whole evening. Roman couldn’t have imagined this ever happening, let alone wanting it to, let alone it being with  _ Brock _ . The thoughts caught up with him and culminated in the cheesiest, “Fancy seeing you here,” he teased, reaching for the flowers. “They’re very pretty.”

“I mean… I told ya. I rarely break a promise.” Brock shrugged with a chuckle, handing them over. ‘I picked them cuz… they strange and pretty. Fit you pretty well. Also roses are for borin’ people.”

It was strange that Brock felt a little bashful and unsure of himself. Were this a year or so ago he’d throw Roman against the wall and start taking advantage of him, but that was when they didn’t care for each other beyond the physical. It seemed they were actually trying for something else here and that was weird and strange and new and so it elicited a different response from him. Not many people got to see the shy yet romantic side of Brock Hewitt.  Roman started to crack that open the day he hit him off guard with a game of tic tac toe and the floodgates just never closed. 

“So uh… movie? Dinner? Night is young’n alla that.”

“Strange and pretty,” Roman repeated thoughtfully, “That’s sweet.” Maybe not a great compliment for most, but Roman seemed exceptionally pleased with the selection  _ and _ the description. He did notice Brock’s nerves, but he had them as well, so for once, he spare the other boy a little ball bust and just let them both enjoy a little moment of butterflies. How often did they get those?

“Dinner, maybe. I can’t talk to you during a movie…” Well, he could, but that was Frowned Upon. “And then we’ll see?”

“Okay. Dinner’t is then.” He nodded, turning to lead him to his truck. After half a step, he swiveled back around and leaned in and stole a kiss. Because why not? Then he turned again and led him out once more. 

After driving for a while, they finally pulled into a quaint little diner. It was Onancock, there weren’t lots of options, and even the nearest McDonalds was a twenty minute drive. Brock figured they’d keep it close for tonight after their out of state adventure in the previous week. They went in and slid into a booth, Brock sat across from him and peered into the menu. All the standards were there, burgers and chicken and apple pie. All the basic food groups he needed anyway. 

“So…” He chuckled a bit, glancing up over the menu and catching Roman’s always mischievous eyes with his own. “I’m sure this weren’t at all what you was expectin’ last year after all that post bunny murder sex.” He joked a bit but it was true. That night was full of anger and disgust and insults and uh… also shamefully good times as well. But they weren’t so shameful these days it would seem. 

Roman snickered from behind his menu, clearly feeling no shame or sorrow over what he’d done to that poor little bunny just for the sake of getting Brock’s attention. It probably should’ve been a sign; the fake ritual he was performing was not that problem, but rather his determination for attention marked by his willingness to do most things to get it. He’d expect to win, of course, and he supposed he had… But what Roman certainly didn’t expect was all the damage he felt along the way. How the win had felt empty at first, but not it suddenly didn’t!

But he lied - “No, it wasn’t. But you bring that night up a lot, sunshine.” Roman smirked.

Brock blushed and shook his head and looked back down at the menu for a moment with a shrug. “I guess cuz I feel bad for havin’ a good time at the expense’f a poor woodland creature.” He nodded. That was the truth. It disgusted him when he saw the rabbit. But then Roman enchanted him with his eyes and his smile and even though he continued to say awful things to him that night, it was over and Roman won and even he knew that. On the one hand he’d almost wished Roman would have just been more honest about his feelings and not opted to murder an animal for attention, but on the other hand Brock was still a jerk and an asshole at that point that hadn’t really come out of his hardened shell quite yet, so maybe that was truly the only way to break through it.

In any case they were on a date over a year and a half later now so... progress.

The waitress came over and took their orders. Brock just ordered a burger and fries (which was conservative for him but hey) and let Roman order what he wanted. Once she left, he tapped his fingers against the table as he looked across at the other boy. 

“It’s weird bein’ out’n not havin’ to talk bout monsters.” Of course by saying that he was talking about them, but you can’t take the hunter out of him completely he supposed. 

“What should we talk about, then?” Roman prompted him playfully, actually looking a bit eager for his food to make it to them. He hadn’t really ordered dinner, instead opting for a few slices of pie. The demon had a sweet tooth, if that wasn’t completely obvious by now. Brock had been satisfying that need lately, too. He wondered, briefly, if that would ever change, but he let that thought die right where it was had spawned - no doom and gloom tonight, just enjoying his well earned prize.

“I think I’ve for certain got the lead in the play. Forest  _ swears _ he can kiss better than me, and that’s why he should be chosen? - Since there’s a kiss, which really only needs to be a peck but you know, hungry theater nerds,” Roman said, shrugging. “ _ Anyway _ , I told him that’s absolutely not true and that I could show him if he wanted. He got really red and shut the fuck up.” He ran the theater with an iron fist, on his best days.

Brock watched Roman talk with a piqued eyebrow. There were times when the other boy spoke that reminded him of exactly how much of a brat he was, and this was no exception. Brock wouldn’t claim to know anything about the theater department. The last extracurricular he participated in was wrestling, and he got kicked off for wrestling too hard and breaking Robbie’s arm. They were a weird pair. 

“Uh wow… congrats?” He chuckled, playing with the straw in his water. It was then that he realized that he had no idea how to be a normal teenager anymore. At least that was something that Roman had up on him. He had school experiences to talk about. All Brock wanted to talk about was battle tactics and exorcisms. He truly was an outcast 90% of the time. Still, Roman’s enthusiasm for his drama was cute, even if he was a little shit that was full of himself. 

“Sides, he kisses like a guppy anyway.” He shrugged. “I been ‘round, you know this.” At least nowadays he tried to be a little more choosy with who he slept with. But especially sophomore year… when those powers first kicked in it was like he had to have sex with everyone in sight. Which he kind of did. There was a time you couldn’t walk down the hall at the high school without bumping into someone he’d at least made out with.

Their food came quickly, Brock tried to eat slowly but it was totally against his nature. Plus being the big strong hunter he was, he constantly burned off the calories. He eyed Roman and his pie and just chuckled.

“You’re a weird one.” He teased, but he was totally fine with his date’s pie eating preference. 

“ _ Thank _ you,” he took the compliment easily,  because of course he did. It was Roman. “And yeah,  he looks like he would. Most theater kids don't kiss that well,  honestly, it's really a shame.” As if on cue, he gave a dramatic sigh.  No one could match him in his own house, apparently, but even he seemed to recognize how full of himself he was being,  because he just grinned at Brock. 

“You like it,” Roman shot back, eating his first bite of pie and sucking on the fork thoughtfully. It felt nice to be able to tease Brock about him liking Roman and know that it was true.  It felt almost as nice as this pie tasted good. “Oh, this is  _ good _ .” He went for another piece. 

“Yeah well… I guess it’s safe’t admit I do a lil bit. Even though you’re super arrogant’n fulla yourself.” Brock smirked raising an eyebrow. But he teased, despite how honest it was, it was all in good fun. If you couldn’t be honest with each other then what was the point.  Brock went back to munching on a few of his fries when suddenly he felt a dip in the pit of his stomach. Like someone had punched the air right out of him. It seemed like everything got colder. But nothing in the room changed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Other diners went on with their meals. The wait staff happily refilled drinks and served pie. Everything was calm. And yet… he turned and looked out the window, beyond the trees. He saw nothing, but he felt something.

“...somethings coming…” He said under his breath, not trying to alarm Roman. His duty called at the worst times. But this was different. Brock was… afraid.  He wouldn’t go out to investigate. He would wait. Instead he went back and shuffled some more fries into his mouth to distract himself. 

“Like  _ you _ aren’t?” Roman very nearly stuck out his tongue, but he supposed that would’ve just proved Brock’s point and he couldn’t allow that willingly. So instead he went back to his pie, but he felt it too, in a different sort of way, like cold fingers tickling step by step up his spine and Roman shivered just a little.

“Yeah…” He said, frowning and glancing out the window, but unlike Brock, he didn’t look afraid and he didn’t seek to distract himself. Roman watched impassively, waiting it out. It felt familiar, but he had no reason to think she’d seek them out again.

After a while, the feeling started to fade lightly, but there was still an unease in the air for Brock. He wondered if normal people could sense these things, or if he was just hypersensitive because of his Redeemer abilities. But as he looked around the room, nobody else seemed alarmed. Maybe it was just him.  But still, one thing he knew was that something big just rolled into town, and he had an idea what. Why was a different question altogether. Still, he hated how it made him feel. Scared and powerless. Like he needed to jump across the table and hide behind Roman. Hunters weren’t supposed to be like that. It messed with his ego as well as his mind. 

“I uh… I’m sorry. That was weird.” He said out loud. But the chill in the air got to him, and he found himself unconsciously sliding over into Roman’s side of the booth. It was weird to feel this way, but there he was. He was sure Roman would get a kick out of it later. 

Roman slid a hand over Brock’s knee, taking in the rare moment of vulnerability that he’d not witnessed twice in this big, strong hunter of his. It made him feel protective in a way he didn’t normally - if something scared Brock, Roman innately wanted to scare  _ it _ . Of course, he couldn’t scare what he sensed this might be. Not directly. He was only wily, so if the time came, he’d manipulate his chances in any ways he could against her. He paused, realizing that he’d essentially just vowed some weird sort of self sacrifice, and felt a little sick to his stomach over it. Roman pushed that thought aside.

“Don’t worry,” he said slowly, rubbing Brock’s knee with a thumb comfortingly. “I’ve got you.”

Brock couldn’t help but feel so touched by that. It was beyond weird that Roman, who if possible seemed at times to be even more selfish than Brock had been, would be so protective of him. It was even kind of sweet that Roman thought he could protect him from whatever was out there. But Brock could feel it in his gut that if it wanted him dead, there was no stopping it. It would require more creative thinking if he had to take it down. Still, he was lost in a moment, and despite being in the middle of a diner in rural O’cock, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss against Roman’s lips. They were two built guys anyway, and there were plenty of rumors that circulated about the both of them of people who’d crossed them and barely lived to tell about it. No one would speak ill of them to their faces. 

Still, the rumbling made him hungry, so he swiftly finished off his burger afterwards.  While they were mulling over the check (which Brock took care of because he was the one taking Roman out as promised) Brock had ordered them milkshakes to buy some more time because he really didn’t want to go out there yet.  And yet the bottom of the glass started coming too soon. He chewed on his lip and looked over at the other boy for a moment with a little unsure look on his face.

“Should we still do tha movie? Or… go elsewhere?” He asked, because he had a sinking feeling duty was going to crash the evening sooner rather than later. 

Roman shrugged heavily, smiling. “Yeah sure! We can go see that one that’s supposed to have a lot of blood …. Or that one about the … dragons?” He didn’t go to the movies much. He didn’t go on dates much. Not like this anyway, but that was likely becoming apparent with every word he said.

“...Are you okay?”

Brock pursed his lips and gave a little half shrug then looked out across the parking lot again.  

“I uh… y’know how Spiderman has like… spider sense?” He asked as he chewed on his lip.

“I just got this sense’t somethin’s gon go really wrong. Not you… some  _ thing _ .” He said in an exasperated tone. 

“It’s stupid but… I dunno. If somethin’ happens I’ll just be super annoyed is all.” Because can’t a superhero have any night off?

“Hey,” Roman said, nudging him out of the booth and grabbing his hand to tug him the rest of the way to the counter. “I can take care of myself. And if something does go wrong, we can take care of it together,” he replied, shrugging. It was a great deal more nonchalant than he actually felt, but Roman was anything if not stubbornly optimistic about his odds of getting out of something.

“Still considered a date, right? If we’re doing it together?” He gave a sly smile.

Brock let the boy grip his hand and drag him toward the door and he strolled along a little more confidently. “If we usin’ that logic then we done been on like half a dozen dates already.” He said in a joking manner, but that was weirdly the truth. Even their hunting outings when things were weird were oddly intimate. 

They made their way to the truck and Brock pushed Roman against the car door and pressed his nose against the other’s. “I jus’ wan’ feel like a real boy for once.” He said, leaning in to close the gap.  But of course that was when he let out a gasp as he was lifted into the air. 

Brock looked down at the petite dark skinned girl and his stomach was on fire from the unsettling fear in his stomach. It was  _ her _ . But this time something was different.  Not only did she seem frazzled; her clothing torn and her braids loose, but her eyes were not the same orbs devoid of emotion anymore.  There was rage and fear there. 

“Are you the one!?” She asked, almost as if panicked and pleading as she tightened her grip around his neck. She stared into his eyes, fiery and cold and he heard a ringing in his head as blood began to trickle out of his eyes and nose. 

“What do I have to DO?! I will rip his bones from his flesh if it means to complete my mission!” She yelled at the sky in a crazed manner.  People in the diner heard and were staring out the window, but none dared come. He figured that sense of dread was working on them now too. 

Within seconds, Roman’s face went from lit up by a smile to sheer panic. He felt her before he saw her, but that was too late as Brock was pulled away from him. “Brock!!” He yelled, and then turned on the Old One. She looked so different, almost frantic, but that didn’t currently matter to him. He needed to get Brock away from her before they had a repeat of Connor’s fate.

Roman rushed over to her, not hesitating to grab her despite the fact she was much older than him. “He’s not the one - You got him already, put him down!” Just by fate alone, he supposed, he had started wearing the stupid talisman he’d acquired on their hunt, so he quickly pulled it from his shirt to get her attention. “Do you remember me,” he demanded.

She remained unyielding for a few moments. But she could not call the Outer Gods for the chains of judgement. They would not listen. They haven’t listened in weeks.  An inconvenience that would normally be a blip on her emotional radar that now angered and confused her. It wasn’t until the talisman was brandished that she let go, letting Brock hit the concrete with a thud before grabbing her ears in pain as if she heard a sort of screeching in her ears. Brock backed up against his tire and wiped at the blood coming out of his face as he looked up in confusion.  This woman was that powerful presence, but she didn’t seem to know it herself. 

The Old One collapsed to her knees and ran her hands through her hair for a moment before looking up at Roman.  

“I know I killed him.  It wasn’t enough.” She hissed.  “They stopped listening they… they won’t let me IN! The longer I’m tied to this mortal coil the more afflicted I become with your filth. Your…  _ emotions _ .” She punched the ground and a crack formed that traveled to Roman’s feet. 

“I used to destroy worlds. Create them. And now I can’t get past a lowly portal to the Outer Realm. There has to be something I haven’t done. A creature I haven’t killed.” She side eyed Brock once more. 

“THAT one was the only other one present. He has to be the key!” She balled her fist. Were she in her emotionless terminator state, Brock would be dead. But as she’d said, this dimension seemed to affect her negatively.  Turn her more human. He wondered if all demons were like that. If Roman’s family had been that way once. Confused and angry before ultimately succumbing to their lives here. 

Roman didn't step away,  just watched her curiously,  though when Brock fell he did glance back to see that he was fine.  Scared, but fine. He gaze turned back to this broken Old One, frowning. 

“It's  _ not _ him,” Roman repeated sternly, subconsciously channeling the darker energy of his mother than the rigid demonic form of his father. “Leave him be,  I'll help you find your way back.”

He moved so he was between her and Brock,  despite the fact that he knew if she wanted to move him, she would. 

It didn’t matter that he moved between them. She could do little now. When a demon of her nature stayed too long here, their powers dimmed, weakened. She would retain them, but nowhere near where they would normally be. And now she was tired. There was a reason the Old Ones stayed in their realm. If this were the old days, her followers would keep her strong with sacrifices and twisted prayer. In this age, nobody knew their names anymore. They just manipulated from afar. Man had taken over Earth like a cancer. So she stayed, peering down at the concrete in a pitiful manner.  

Brock attempted to stand but had to lean back against the truck. He could tell she was weakening too, as his gut didn’t feel as heavy as it had moments ago. But he was still hellishly woozy. Whatever last mojo she spent attempting to almost melt his brain just left him crazy dizzy.

“She ain’t a threat no more…” He nodded, wiping the blood from his nose. “Somethin’ happened’t her.” He hobbled over to Roman and collapsed against his shoulder.

“Also I think you should drive now.”

Roman was hardly listening, just staring down at the Old One looking pitiful at their feet, frowning, wondering if this is what his mom looked like when first confined to a mortal form. He wanted to reach out to her, but he stayed where he was, the sudden heavy weight of Brock against his shoulder drawing him out of his thoughts.

“We have to help her, Brock, look at her.”

Brock steadied himself against Roman and nodded, the ringing in his head still faint. He didn’t care what Roman did at this point. He just needed to rest a minute. Or a day.

“If ya think ya should then… I mean sure, do what ya want. We can take her somewhere.” Brock nodded once more. 

“I’m jus’ glad she ran outta juice ‘fore she melted my brain.”

At that,  Roman's concern shifted to Brock and he turned and smiled softly,  leaning over to kiss him briefly. “Let me help you to the truck so you can rest and then I'll … see.  What she wants to do.” 

His gaze shifted just slightly to the other demon. But she seemed so far unresponsive even though they were clearly referring to her.  Roman took Brock's arm to guide him to the car, and once the other boy was sitting, he gave him another kiss. This one longer, almost like it was a promise for something better in the future. 

Brock settled into the car and blushed a little after the kiss, looking up at Roman with mischievous, or at least as mischievous as he could muster, eyes. 

“Y’know maybe later ya can help me wit’ this headache. If ya want.” He teased, leaving that up to him. Still he leaned back and closed his eyes as the other boy turned his attention to the demon. 

The Old One just sat there, moving her fingertips in circular motions on the concrete, as if she was drawing things in the dust. She was clearly going some kind of mad, unable to contain herself in this new human vessel. 

“If I am stuck here, I do not wish to live. I’ll allow you to kill me. That would leave you feared amongst the lesser demons. It would be good for you. Consider it a parting gift.” She said calmly, but her tone of voice implying that she was begging Roman to assist her suicide. 

Strangely compassionate,  Roman's eyes betrayed almost everything he felt for her currently.  The wasn't pity, but understanding, disappointment, and a myriad of other things. “I'm not _ killing _ you,” he said with a laugh.  “Aren't you a great being? You're giving up so easily.” The disappointment shone most of all then. 

“I'll help you figure out what you need,  as I said. And then you can leave Brock and I alone and go home.”

“I am.” She said without hesitation. But she just brought her hands up to her face and looked at them, watched them quiver momentarily before looking at the young demon.

“I have never been this weak. It’s not something I wish to be. I’d sooner die than be lower than a human cow.” She hissed.

“I hate these emotions.  I hate that I HATE anything. I am not supposed to feel. I’m not supposed to have anything driving me beyond the need to keep balance in this universe.” She looked back up at him.

“What would you do for me then?”

“I…” Roman hesitated, not having a plan beyond his promise. “Give me time. I’ll ask my ancestors… They’ll know how to help you.” Or at least, they’d never failed him so far.

“I still have your pendant. I can call you when I know more.”

She just laughed, unhinged in a way. Devoid of hope but still strangely psychotic. 

“I am your ancestors, boy. Or at least close enough. I probably knew of them. I can’t see what a bunch of ghosts will do to help.” She sneered. But alas, she hobbled to her feet, pulling her braids out of her face. 

“This body is growing weak. It’s tired. I’ve never had to rest before. I hate it.”

Roman felt bad for her, but he didn’t let it betray his expression, which he kept muted, biting the inside of his cheek. “Rest up, Old One. I’m going to take care of my boyfriend that you nearly killed now.”

He turned away from her, content that she was stubbornly set aside from suicide, and returned to Brock, smiling. “Let’s tend to those wounds, shall we?  _ Boyfriend.”  _ He just liked the sound of the word in reference to Brock.

The Old One watched as he approached the truck, then looked down at the ground, defeated. It was a sad sight, to see such a great being trapped and hopeless. She turned and shuffled off in the opposite direction, not looking back. But rest assured, it wasn’t the last they’d seen of her.

Brock weakly turned his head, which was throbbing at this point, when Roman climbed into the driver’s seat. He licked his lips because they’d dried from whatever trauma the Old One caused with her… mind squish thing she did, but he developed a little half smile.

“You really wan’ be my boyfriend?” He asked, looking up at the demon with a tiny smirk. “I’ve been kind’f a dick to you for… well… ever.”

Roman turned on the car and then flashed a wicked little smile at Brock. He hadn’t forgotten. Of course, he’d had his fair share of terrible moments in relation to Brock too, but no sense in addressing them if the hunter wasn’t making him. Instead, he just leaned over to kiss his cheek in a small concession of victory.

“Just don’t be a dick to me now.” 

“So you don’t want my dick, okay.” He teased, followed by a laugh, followed by a wince. Because pain. 

“Sorry. I’m like a little girl right now.” He smirked, watching Roman’s face. Watching the way the moonlight kissed the curves of his lip and cheekbones. 

“I couldn’t say it before but…” Brock started to say, then looked away for a moment.

“Okay don’t make fun’a me but, you’re kinda beautiful.” He said, moving his hand over to grab Roman’s. 

Roman scoffed, shooting Brock a look, but if that’s how he wanted to play, well… Roman wouldn’t deny it. He just smiled knowingly and shrugged. Sure, he didn’t want it.

The compliment garnered  _ another _ look, but this one was different, one eyebrow raised as his attention drifted slightly from the road as he started to pull out of the parking lot. It was a little strange to hear something like that come from Brock, even if Roman wasn’t unaware that he could be both genuine and sweet when the moment struck him. Hell, compliments on their own weren’t rare for him. The look said as much, a partial ‘duh’ mixed in with the confusion (borderline suspicion), but he didn’t really know how to deal with any of it so he only said: “Um, yeah. Are you only just now realizing that?” Roman narrowed his eyes playfully.

For the first time in a long while, Brock felt almost embarrassed, having said something… dumb and juvenile, even if it was a compliment. He used to be so suave. Maybe that suave guy was the one Roman fell for, but it truly wasn’t who he was. It was a persona he forced on to deal with pain, loneliness, and newfound responsibility. Now he was just… himself. No matter how vanilla it could sometimes be. 

“No, I just… I didn’t know how complicated things were before. An’ y’know… I had the complicated stuff goin’ on. I had Adam. But I was feelin’ things for you. It was complicated…” He said, thumb caressing the back of his hand. He looked over to Roman and cupped his chin, then gave him a kiss.

“It’s jus’ nice’t be able to say how I really feel now is all.” He whispered against his lips. Then another pulse in his head, another wince. He stopped for a moment, then smirked.

“I totally don’t want you’t think I’m using you, so you don’t have to heal me if you don’ wan’. But if you do choose to, just know it’s not  _ healing  _ me so much as it would be me makin’ love’t my  _ boyfriend. _ ” He smiled before pulling back and laying against the back of the chair, though still holding his hand.

Still it was enough insanity for one night, so Roman decided maybe it really was better if they just headed back to his house. The world was different now. Brock was his boyfriend. They'd solved their mystery, but it only left them with a broken Old One wandering the streets. What happens next? And where would they go from here?

 

**END.**


End file.
